


Incandescent

by immistermercury



Series: fluorescent! verse [4]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: (spoilers) - Freeform, Adoption, Alternate Universe - Ballet, Dissociative Amnesia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Happy Ending, Hospitalisation, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Recovery, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, although he's injured in this one so it's not ballet focused, author knows nothing about fostering, emergency foster care, freddie dances for the royal ballet, freddie is really good with traumatised kids, freddie wants a baby, freddie wants to save the world one child at a time, hiv scare, it's mostly just our boys being a domestic family, poor talulah, sequel to fluorescent, the power couple now have a child!, the trial that doesn't happen in fluorescent, you don't have to have read fluorescent to read this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2020-03-09 20:02:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 68
Words: 168,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18924076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immistermercury/pseuds/immistermercury
Summary: After such a traumatic experience, Freddie craves stability in all of its guises. Engagement and marriage come and go, but the house is too empty and the long days are missing a new responsibility. In amongst the aftermath, he finds exactly what he needs, and Jim is only too thrilled to help.ORThe process of adoption is laborious, but they finally get their son. Their daughter they chance upon, and Freddie wants a baby.





	1. Peripheral

**Author's Note:**

> So I was having a terrible evening and I decided to make it better by writing this. I was going to write the part where they get Oliver first but my heart demanded it so here's a quick summary of what's happened between the end of fluorescent and this:  
> \- Freddie is like 26 here and Jim is about to turn 30  
> \- They adopted Oliver like two months ago (Oliver is about to turn five and was in care until Fred and Jim met him)  
> \- When they adopted Oliver, they put themselves on the register for emergency foster care  
> \- Fred's family mean absolutely everything to him because he doesn't have his mum/dad/anyone in England except Kash  
> \- Fred is still a principal and Jim is head conductor

PART ONE

 

He sat on the floor of the lounge, rhythmically pointing and relaxing his toes against the force of the resistance band. As much as he hated being injured, hated having to take even a single day off of dancing, he was determined to make his way through rehab from his surgery patiently; he wouldn’t still be a dancer at forty if he didn’t.

 

He paused for a moment to listen for any sounds upstairs, but was rewarded with a calm silence. He often didn’t get to enjoy the daytime with Oliver like Jim did, locked away instead in rehearsal studios from seven in the morning until three in the afternoon. They’d had the best morning together, baking biscuits in preparation for when Jim got home, dancing around the lounge to the music on the television and drawing pictures together.

 

Freddie glanced down with a smile at the white shirt he was wearing, covered in pen from where his little man had taken to drawing on him. They definitely hadn’t stayed within the lines.

 

Little Oliver had been tired out after his lunch, and Freddie was proud of how easily he’d managed to put him down for a nap, all tucked up in his blue and white blanket that he had bought him on their first day together. The nap gave him the time to work through some of his exercises, to keep the muscles of the feet prepared even as he had to rest his upper leg.

 

The phone rang and Freddie grabbed at his crutch quickly; although he wasn’t dependent on it, he didn’t want to push how long he went without it. He moved as quickly as he could, not wanting the shrill noise to wake the sleeping child, assuming it was Jim calling to check on them in his lunch break. He’d always been the one to do the morning routine, to sort out childcare while he was away from school, and he sometimes couldn’t quite believe that Freddie - mostly - remembered everything he had to do.

 

He sat on the floor by the receiver and picked up quickly. “Hello, Freddie and Jim Hutton?”

 

Freddie Hutton. He glanced at his wedding ring and smiled; still not used to it.

 

“Freddie?” The voice on the other end was recognisable, though not familiar. It sounded stressed, even a little panicked, and he tensed immediately. “Freddie, is that you?”

 

“It’s me.” He replied quickly. “Is everything okay?”

 

He heard an audible sigh of relief and relaxed a little. “It’s Charlotte from the adoption agency. I’m so sorry to launch this on you now, especially as you haven’t had Oliver long, but are you still opted in for emergency foster care?”

 

That had been a long battle, something that Jim had agreed to with a little reluctance; he didn’t trust Freddie not to overwork the both of them. “We are.” He said softly. “Is there somebody you need me to take? I can make up the spare room.”

 

“Are you working at the moment?” She asked hopefully.

 

“Not at the moment. I’m off completely for two and a half weeks for injury.” He explained, grabbing the paper and pen off the counter in case he needed to write anything down.

 

“How’s your mobility?” Charlotte questioned. “How are you doing with Oliver? Is Jim home too?”

 

“I’m on crutches whenever possible, but I’m not dependent on them. I tore my hamstring, so it’s not too major. Jim’s not home, but Oliver and I are doing just fine. I’ve just put him down for a nap.” He grabbed his warm up boots from his bag by the door and put them on over his cold feet, phone pressed between his head and his shoulder.

 

“I’ve got a little girl here who desperately needs somewhere for this evening and I really don’t want to put her into care if I don’t have to. She’s just lost mum and dad in an accident, and she won’t speak to anyone. You know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have to, but is there any way that you could take her in?” She asked.

 

What kind of monster could say no to that?

 

“Of course I can.” Freddie promised. “Bring her straight over and I’ll make up the spare room. How old is she?”

 

“We don’t know. We don’t know her name, either. We’re guessing she’s just about to or just has turned three.” She sounded so much more relaxed. “I’ll bring her over to you at about four. Thank you so much, Fred.”

 

* * *

 

Oliver was happily playing up in his bedroom, the spare room had been set out with soft blankets and the window opened to air it out on such a warm day. Freddie picked up the phone quickly and dialed the Opera House, tapping his fingers impatiently against the counter. He was put through to Jim on an emergency call and almost laughed when he heard the flustered voice of his lover on the other end.

 

“Freddie, sweetheart, can I call you back when we’re done for the day? I know we need milk and dinner, I’ll pick it up on the way home. I’m really in the middle of something right now.” Freddie smiled at how well Jim knew him, knew his usual requests, but today was out of the ordinary.

 

“It’s important, darling, I’m sorry. I might not be able to take the call later.” He apologised. “We’ve been pulled up on emergency foster care. A little girl is staying with us this evening, and she’s very upset because she’s lost her parents and she doesn’t really know what’s going on.”

 

“Fuck.” Jim replied quickly. “Okay, love. I’ll bring things for four.” He promised. “I’ll get out as quickly as I can so that I can be with you. Are you okay?”

  
  
“I’m okay.” Freddie promised. “Not as much pain as this morning. I’ll be okay with them. Please bring some extra things, especially some treats. I don’t want her thinking this is some kind of puritanical no fun house.”

 

Jim laughed then, and Freddie relaxed, knowing he wasn’t angry about it. “Will do. I love you.”

 

“Love you too.” Freddie smiled then as he put down the phone and went to make another tea.

 

* * *

 

The little girl was possibly the sweetest thing that Freddie had ever seen. She couldn’t have been older than four, mostly hidden behind a soft, knitted blanket that she clutched to. He could see immediately that she needed a good bath, maybe with the princess rubber duck that Jim had bought as a joke and a lot of bubbles to help make her smile. She was still a little teary-eyed, looking around at everything and seeming so frightened and overwhelmed. She stood behind Charlotte in the hallway, too frightened to move, and Freddie couldn’t help but smile. If there was something he knew how to deal with, it was this.

 

“Hello!” He said quietly, keeping his voice light and friendly as he sat on the floor, a little way away from her. “I’m Freddie, what’s your name?”

 

One blue eye regarded him carefully but she shook her head.

 

“That’s okay.” He smiled. “Is it all big and scary at the moment? Lots of people that you don’t know?” He asked gently.

 

She nodded, thumb in her mouth, but Freddie could see the way she responded a little, moved the blanket away from her face just a little. He’d take it as a victory.

 

“You know what I always do when things are scary?” He lifted both his hands and cupped them around his face, blocking out his peripheral vision. “I do this with my hands so I can only see what’s right in front of me. If you do it now, you can block out everyone other than me. Can you try that for me?”

 

She lifted her hands nervously, blocking out everything around her except Freddie. He smiled at her. “Good job! Now, I’m going to get everyone to be really quiet so we don’t have to think about them at all.” She seemed to trust him every time he fulfilled a promise. “Can we all be nice and quiet for me?” He asked the adults stood above them; they obliged quickly.

 

“Can you hear that?” He brought his hands back up to his face, copying what she was doing. “It’s all nice and quiet now. It’s just me and you, we’re in a little bubble.”

 

There was almost a nervous smile on her face.

 

“Now, do you think that you can tell me your name? You only have to talk to me, nobody else.” He promised.

 

She was quiet for a few seconds, but Freddie imagined it was the first bit of quiet she’d had all day. He was creating a safe environment for her, and she was responding to it positively. It was a start. “Talulah.” She whispered.

 

“Talulah. That’s a very pretty name.” He smiled. “Do you know how old you are, Talulah?”

 

“Three.” She murmured and Freddie beamed at her.

 

“Well done.” He said softly. “Thank you for telling me, Talulah.” He slowly lowered his hands and watched her do the same. “Now, Talulah, I’m going to be looking after you for a little bit. I’m going to keep you nice and safe, okay?”

 

“You are?” She asked, moving out from behind Charlotte’s leg a little. They’d established a line of trust.

 

“I am.” He repeated. He held out his little finger, crossing his legs as he smiled. “I pinky promise.”

 

She locked their fingers and then, unexpectedly, flew into his lap, little arms wrapping tight around him. He looked shocked for a second and then wrapped his arms close around her, glancing up at Charlotte with a smile. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “Tell me, sweetheart, do you like cats?”

  


When Jim came home that evening, Freddie was asleep on the sofa, Oliver tucked up against his side, Peaches laying across one shoulder and the sweetest, smallest little blonde-haired girl he’d ever seen against his chest.


	2. Snowball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The following events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note: Oliver/Bear are the same child, Bear is just his nickname!
> 
> Today was my first A level exam and I was stressing out so I wrote this to calm me down, hence why it's long and vaguely episodic - I didn't have much structure in mind! Ironically, it was an English exam, and it was a comparison of two texts describing Kensington!

Jim leaned over the back of the sofa to press a gentle kiss to Freddie’s forehead; one beautiful, if sleep-heavy, eye opened in response. He smiled as he saw his lover, yawning and rubbing his eyes before reaching up to kiss him properly. “Good evening, darling.” He said softly.

 

Jim chuckled and cupped his cheek as they kissed lazily. “Good evening, my love.” He replied. Freddie shifted a little, accidentally bumping an elbow against Oliver, who jumped awake. He was about to complain, but on seeing Jim, he jumped off the sofa excitedly.

 

“Pop!” He giggled as Jim picked him up and swung him around playfully, wrapping his little arms around his neck. 

 

“Hello, Bear.” He kissed the little boy’s nose. “Have you had fun today?”

 

“Yes!” He said excitedly. “Daddy and I made biscuits and we did some dancing and we did some colouring and I got to colour in daddy!”

 

Freddie’s shirt was mostly hidden by the blanket over the little girl, but he could see smudges of pen over his chest. “You did some dancing, did you?” He teased and then arched an eyebrow. “Should daddy be dancing?”

 

Freddie pouted. “The music was too good, we couldn’t help it.” He tried his best puppy eyes and Jim wrinkled his nose playfully. The little girl started to stir and he carefully rubbed her back to soothe her. “Darling, could you and Bear make dinner tonight? I know it’s my turn, but I need to give little Lulah a bath when she wakes up.”

 

Jim sat beside him, Oliver running to find one of his drawings to show off. “Lulah?” He asked softly, brushing her dirty hair from her face.

 

“Talulah. Bear can’t say it, so we’re calling her Lulah at the moment.” He whispered. “She’s three. I don’t know how long we’ll have her for.” He said honestly, bringing her closer as her little eyes opened. Upon seeing another man, she hid in Freddie’s chest, and he smiled. “Hey, Lulah, it’s okay.” He said softly, bringing her blanket around her little shoulders. “This is Jim.”

 

“Hello, sweetheart.” He said softly, interlocking his fingers with Freddie’s a little nervously. Although he’d naturally fallen into the pattern of parenthood when they’d gotten Oliver, Freddie had always been better at these first meetings and introductions.

 

She eyed him nervously and looked at their hands; Freddie could see something cross her mind, a memory. “You know how your mummy loved your daddy very much?” He asked her softly. She replied with a little nod. “Jim is the man that I love very much. He’s going to help look after you, too.” He stroked her hair gently. 

 

Freddie carefully sat up and she shifted from her hiding place a little, reaching out to touch Jim’s rings. She’d been fascinated with Freddie’s until she’d fallen asleep, and now she was interested in their complementary set.

 

“Do you like them?” Jim asked softly, and she glanced up at him properly before nodding. He carefully took them both off, the wedding ring and the ring from their first Christmas - Freddie was currently winning with three, also having an engagement ring, but he’d sworn that he’d buy Jim an eternity ring to make them equal - and slipped them over her finger, delighting in the way she smiled.

 

“Pretty.” She said quietly, shaking her hand to make them jangle together. “They’re big.” She smiled again, twisting them around and around. 

 

“They have to fit my big fingers.” He said playfully. He wasn’t even conscious of the fact that he was now laying against Freddie as Oliver had been earlier, but Freddie was secretly delighted. In such a hectic world, they didn’t often get to have such slow moments together.

 

Talulah took his hand and put her own hand up against it; her whole hand was smaller than the size of his palm. She wrapped her fingers around his first finger and then slowly crawled her way into his lap, settling down comfortably; Jim’s heart leaped with joy.

 

Freddie smiled and stood up, watching her little eyes follow his every move. “I’m just going into the other room.” He promised her. “If you need me then you can shout for me or you can come and find me, it’s okay.”

  
  
  


“Okay, so the pretty major issue is the fact that we don’t have some of the things we need.” Freddie pulled on a jacket, trying to ignore the pain in his leg. The adrenaline of the new addition had been an effective paracetamol, but now the children were in bed and it was back to nag at him.

 

“Just slow down a second, darling.” Jim said softly, pulling him close for a second. “We can make do until the morning. You need to rest, you can barely walk now.”

 

“No, because you’ll go to work in the morning and I’ll need to look after the both of them. You can’t afford to miss rehearsals when you’ve got a double show tomorrow.” He insisted, but he let himself relax into Jim’s hold, resting his head against his shoulder. “We at least need a toothbrush and some clothes for her. I’ve had to put her in Bear’s pajamas for tonight.”

 

Jim kissed the top of his head. His husband was stubborn as hell, but he loved him all the more for it. “How’s the pain?” He asked, changing track.

 

“Really bad.” Freddie admitted. “I think I forgot to take painkillers because I was focusing on Talulah. I didn’t get a chance to do my exercises, and- fuck.” He rubbed a hand over his forehead; he had a headache coming on. “I’m supposed to have physio tomorrow. Bear’s at nursery, but Talulah’s too young.”

 

Jim shushed him gently. “You’re stressing yourself out, darling, calm down. I’ll go and get some things for Talulah now.” He held him close and kissed him gently. “What time is physio?”

 

“Half eleven through until one.” Freddie said softly. “Let me go and get the things. You’re better at looking after them.” He couldn’t quite meet Jim’s eyes, suddenly ashamed that he’d taken all of this on without considering the impact in the middle of a busy show season. 

 

“That’s not true, sweetheart.” Jim ran his fingers through Freddie’s hair. “You’ve been so good with Talulah, I’m so proud of you. If you really want to go and get the things, you can, but you’re not going out without crutches. I’m not having you hurt yourself.” He grabbed them from where they were resting against the counter and handed them over, letting Freddie take the pressure off his tired muscles. “I’ve got a lunch break eleven until half twelve, so is there any way that you could move it slightly? If not, I can put her in the creche for half an hour.”

 

“She won’t like that.” Freddie said immediately. “No, I should be able to change it. Thank you, darling.” He said with a little relieved sigh. “I’m going to go and see if Mary’s got any of Eloise's old things laying around. She hasn’t long moved into age four clothes.”

 

“That’s a good idea.” Jim nodded. It also wasn’t as far to walk, which placated him slightly. “You can grab a toothbrush from the chemist on the corner.” He said softly, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. They stood together for a few more moments before Jim spoke again. “You did the right thing, Fred. I’m glad you took her in. I’m glad she’s safe with us.”

  
  
  


He entered the Opera House the next day on one crutch, Talulah on the other hip; definitely a weight imbalance, definitely not advised, but definitely an effective way to keep her happy. He was still dressed in that white t-shirt from the day before, covered in colouring pen, but just looking at it made him happy. “The joys of fatherhood.” Olga smiled when she saw him, glancing at the little girl holding onto him with a smile. “This isn’t Bear, who’s this?” She asked, softening her voice a little.

 

Talulah seemed to take to her naturally; Freddie wondered if she reminded her of a grandma or an aunt. “I’m Talulah.” She said, sounding a little more confident.

 

“Talulah!” Olga smiled. “I’m Olga, I’m Freddie’s dance teacher.” Freddie put her down on the floor, secretly thrilled at how easily she took to her, and also secretly thrilled that he could take the weight off his leg.

 

“Dance?” She asked softly, looking back up at Freddie quickly. “Boys don’t dance.”

 

“Your d-” Freddie shook his head quickly; he wouldn’t let himself be referred to as her father in any way. “Freddie does! Freddie is a ballet dancer.” She smiled. “I was a ballet dancer, too.”

 

Freddie glanced at the clock quickly - Jim would be expecting them. “Jim and I are fostering for a little while.” He explained. “Is physio with you or Brian today?”

 

“Both.” She smiled. “Mainly him, but I want to do a session to get you turning again, unless he’s against it from a medical standpoint.”

 

Freddie nodded and lifted Talulah back onto his hip, wincing just momentarily. “Lulah’s going to be with Jim while he’s on his lunch break. She might have to be in the last ten minutes or so.”

 

“Fine by me.” She agreed. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind watching.” She grinned as Talulah nodded excitedly. 

  
  
  


“Okay, so it’s been about a week since you were injured, right?” Brian checked, running his thumb along the edge of the muscle. “Well, the good news is that I think it’s only a grade two, not a grade three like we first thought. I think it’s only a partial tear, not a rupture.”

 

Freddie tensed as it hit the sore spot, despite knowing he had to relax. “Fuck, sorry.” He said apologetically. “How does that change treatment?”

 

“You won’t need surgery.” He started out simply, but Freddie smiled despite himself. “It means we just need to keep you moving, so that it’s not taken over by scar tissue.”

 

He nodded. “The pain has been pretty bad.” He admitted. “Is that to be expected?”

 

“Have you been using crutches?” He asked in return.

 

“Yes.” Freddie replied quickly.

 

“That might actually be making it worse. By taking the pressure off it completely, knots can form around the tear.” He explained. “So lay off them as much as you can. I’ll do a little treatment now to remove any knots you’ve got already, but I’m happy for us to go through some stretches and into some turns later.”

  
  
  


The sight of little Talulah with cream all over her nose reminded Jim so much of Freddie that he couldn’t believe the two weren’t related. It had been his best lunch break in a long while, long bored of spending them alone while Freddie had to rest at home; it was a little too early for her lunch, so they’d gone and explored some exciting toy shops together.

 

_ “Look!” She said excitedly, tugging a white teddy bear from a shelf and hugging it close. “It’s soft!” _

 

_ He’d secretly always wanted a daughter, but Freddie had been so fixated on a son, and they’d agreed to another child when Oliver was older. He’d been determined to have a little girl that time. _

 

_ “Is it a girl or a boy?” Jim asked, kneeling beside her and feeling the fluffiness of the teddy’s fur. “What shall we call it?” _ __  
_  
_ __ “It’s a girl.” She said confidently. “I want to call it Snowball.”

 

_ And after they’d named it, there was no way that Jim could say no. She hadn’t even let it be put in a bag, instead carrying it the whole way to the cafe, smiling every time its soft fur had brushed her cheek. _

 

She giggled into her hot chocolate as Jim ate his lunch quickly, Snowball sat in her lap. She snuggled into it as she told Jim about a bear she’d once seen in a shop window, so vividly descriptive that he could picture it in his mind; it would have to be a birthday or Christmas present, he was certain.

  
  


“You’ve got a friend!” Olga noticed first and Freddie turned quickly to see Jim and Talulah in the doorway, overjoyed at how happy Talulah looked with her new toy.

 

“Freddie, look!” She said excitedly, running over to him. “She’s called Snowball and she’s mine!”

 

“Oh, darling, she’s beautiful!” He smiled at Jim over her shoulder as he hugged her tightly. “Have you had a nice time?”

 

“We went to the park and we played on the swings and then we went to a big toy shop and Jim got Snowball and then he got me hot chocolate and it had cream on top!” She told him, face painted with a big smile; Freddie adored how much she’d managed to trust them since meeting them for the first time.

 

“That sounds lovely.” Freddie smiled, standing up as Jim picked her up again. 

 

“We thought we’d come and watch until you’d finished.” He said softly and kissed Freddie gently. “How was treatment?”

 

“Hell.” Freddie laughed. “I hate dry needling, it turns out, but it really works.” His face broke into a bigger grin as he remembered his news. “It’s not as severe as we thought it might be. It turns out I won’t need surgery after all, and it could be all healed in three weeks so long as I’m not silly with it.”

 

“That’s incredible news, darling.” Jim smiled and kissed him again, sliding one hand around to cradle the back of his head. Everyone was accustomed to them by now, and he felt no embarrassment in showing the world his love for his husband.

 

“He’s got his splits back, too.” Olga grinned as they pulled away. “You want to show him?”

 

Freddie blushed a little; seven years as a principal and he still wasn’t used to showing off his talent. He grabbed onto the barre and slowly leaned forward, taking his foot in hand and holding it tightly as he pulled forward. “Next we’re working on getting into an  arabesque penché without holding the foot.” She explained. 

 

As he hit the splits, Jim glanced down at Talulah; her little mouth was open in wonder. “Wow.” She whispered, looking up at Jim. “Daddy can do that?”

 

_ Daddy.  _ Jim wondered if Freddie had heard her. 

 

“This is what he does as a job. You should see him when he dances properly.” He smiled as they sat together at the side. “If you’re lucky, he might do some now.”

 

“We’ll try some  chaînés, I know they’re you’re favourite.” Olga smiled. “Remember the footwork we practiced and don’t try to go fast for now. Four turns, and then a small assemblé.”

 

Freddie tended to feel sluggish when he wasn’t able to move; part of the nature of the job was being so attuned to moving every day. He was forever running, jumping, lifting, turning, more often out of breath than breathing normally. It was the rhythm of his life, accompanied by a swirl of violin and a dash of piano, and he wouldn’t give it up for the world.

 

Whenever he was injured, though, it wasn’t the stage that came as his first concern. His first concern, always, was a worry that he wouldn’t be able to play with Oliver; he longed to run around after him, to play races and to pick him up and spin him around and love him in a way that he’d never felt from his own father. He wanted to be able to slide him along the kitchen floor in his socks, to jump around the lounge to the music from his cartoons, to hold him tight on the big swings as Jim pushed them both. 

 

Whenever he was injured, it wasn’t  _ will I dance again?  _ It was always, always,  _ can I still be a good dad to Bear? _

 

The small movement, four turns and the smallest jump, ached in the familiar way of muscles tired and underused, muscles coming back from a holiday. Athletes had rest periods, built up to their peak and then came back down again in a measured manner; the dancer had to be perpetually at the top of their game.

 

He glanced at Talulah as he jumped, taking his eyes away from his spot for a moment, and smiled. Maybe he had all the more reasons to be on the top of his game. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a crazy amount of ideas for this, but I won't continue farther if you guys aren't that interested in this one - drop me a comment if you're interested in their life as foster/adoptive parents and want to read more!


	3. Blankets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know that darkness always turns into light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You wanted plot and I gave you plot my friends. Implied (semi-graphic) smut content at the beginning and then honestly, poor Talulah.

“You’ll pull your weight, Mr. Hutton.” Jim said playfully as he pushed a tea-towel into Freddie’s hands. “You can do the drying up and put things away.”

 

Although he’d never found a love for household chores, Freddie obliged with a smile. “I’m still not used to you calling me that.” He said shyly, ducking his head down to hide his blush. Jim swore that sometimes he angled his head in a certain way, caught his lip between his teeth, blushed when complimented; everything reminded him of that barely-legal boy he’d met that had proceeded to change his life forever.

 

He couldn’t help but press a kiss to the top of his head in that same way as he first had all those years ago, in that way that said _I love you and I promise I won’t hurt you._ “It’s been a long time coming.” He smiled. “Five years it took me to propose and I was still convinced you’d say no.”

 

Freddie smiled. “And then it took me a whole year to plan the wedding.” He smiled and pulled Jim close, towel still clutched in his hand. “And we still haven’t done the honeymoon.”

 

“It was the honeymoon or Bear.” Jim kissed his nose. “Besides, I’ve booked it for the summer, around July, after the end of the season. You won’t have to worry about it like you would’ve if we’d gone after we got married.”

 

Freddie’s face lit up. “You’ve booked it?” He asked excitedly. “Where? What are we doing?”

 

“You’ll have to find out.” He said playfully. It had been a running joke that Freddie wouldn’t know until they’d landed in the country, but he secretly loved the element of surprise.

 

“Is it city or beach?” He asked, biting his lip. “Should I pack swim shorts or jeans? Or is it somewhere cold? Do I need jumpers?”

 

“Freddie!” Jim laughed. “It’s still a good three months away.” He snatched a towel off the side and swatted his ass playfully with it. “Have some patience.”

 

Freddie pouted petulantly. “You can’t marry me and then keep secrets from me.” He crossed his arms playfully.

 

Jim dried off his hands and pushed him up against the counter, the atmosphere between them crackling with electricity. “What if they’re really, really-” His lips ghosted against Freddie’s ear. “Good secrets?”

 

He shivered, threading his fingers into Jim’s hair. He wanted to say something witty, but all he could think of was doing unholy things here in this kitchen despite the children just upstairs. “Maybe I’ll make an exception.” He tugged his hair until their lips met. It was rough to start with, biting at lips and hands on waists and chests and grabbing at whatever would yield; it had been long, far too long, and Freddie couldn’t help it if he was teasing. “Bedroom?” He breathed against his lips, begrudgingly accepting that their days of wherever, whenever, were over.

 

“You’re too loud.” Jim smirked, gripping his ass just to hear the whimper in response. “Kids are next door.”

 

Freddie groaned in frustration. “Bathroom?” He tried again, slipping a thigh between Jim’s just to make him moan. “Darling, you’re killing me here.”

 

“Have we already gotten to the point of the bathroom floor?” He teased, biting just under Freddie’s ear.

 

“Counter.” He said breathlessly, rocking forwards. “I’ve got the splits back for a reason.” He smirked and tilted his head back, biting his lip.

 

“You’re filthy.” Jim picked him up easily and he squealed, heat burning in his core. He wondered how many rehearsal breaks, how many after-performances, how many times one of them had gotten so riled watching the other during the day that they had to escape to a bathroom and emerge a little while later, flushed and glowing and a little out of breath.

 

The splits came in useful when you were hanging onto a sink for dear life.

 

And maybe they knocked over a few cologne bottles and accidentally threw cotton pads all over the floor, maybe Freddie would have to replace a glass bottle that smashed, maybe Jim would have to clear up shampoo that had spilled on the floor; it all seemed worth it as Freddie’s toes curled and pointed, legs slung haphazardly over shoulders and around waists; it all seemed worth it as hot skin met Jim’s lips, as soft skin yielded so beautifully to his touch.

 

Freddie lay back, smooth, cold marble against his back, the counter cleared quickly with the sweep of an arm for his use. He giggled as he toyed with the hem of his shirt, love-drunk and watching his lover in a daze. He bit his thumbnail, coy and so coquettish, stretching out languidly. “You made a mess of me.” He said, voice teasingly light.

 

“And that’s just how you like it.” Jim trailed his tongue over the muscles of his stomach and then kissed him with a smirk. “You like to be looked after.”

 

Freddie wrapped his arms around his neck and licked into his mouth greedily. Jim groaned and pulled back a little. “I can’t handle you.” He watched as Freddie ran his tongue over his lips and teeth.

 

“Darling, you handle me better than any other man ever could.” Freddie giggled, more playful than sexual, and held on tight as he was picked up again. “I need a shower. You can go and check on the kids.”

 

Jim pouted and kissed him again. “I want to shower with you.”

 

“And you can, when I’m confident that we haven’t woken up and permanently scarred the  children.” Freddie chuckled. “Trust me, I’d go, but I don’t want any questions of _daddy, what’s that on your top?_ ” He joked.

 

Jim scrunched his nose and leaned over to turn the shower. “You win this one.” He conceded. “Take your time. I want to wash your hair.”

 

And after all these years, all the shared showers, the gesture still warmed Freddie’s heart. He kissed him again, softer this time, and smiled. “I love you.” He said softly.

 

“I love you too, Mr. Hutton.” Jim smiled; he was addicted to using their shared surname, wondering if one day he’d be pinched and he’d go back to being bored of hookups in bars.

 

He glanced at his wedding ring as he threw on a new shirt and went to check on the children. He’d take this feeling, quick moments of intimacy and long-term support and knowing another like the back of his hand over the thrill of courting, of teasing, any day.

 

Jim pulled the blanket back over Oliver’s shoulders, dropping a soft kiss on his head as he slept soundly. A few weeks of nightmares had quickly melted away when Freddie had bought him his blanket, the blanket which Freddie had secretly slept with for a few nights to make it smell comforting and familiar before he gave it over.

 

He peeked into Talulah’s room, not yet knowing how well she would sleep, and his heart melted when he found her curled up to the old teddy bear that Freddie had used to help him sleep while he’d been with Paul. It was the same one as had gone to hospital that fateful evening, that same one that had provided comfort when he was alone and frightened and in pain and wondering if he would ever find love that didn’t hurt him quite as badly. He carefully brushed the hair back from her face, and he found himself momentarily regretting fostering her; he wondered how they’d ever say goodbye. A day and a half, and she already felt as though she’d been a part of their family forever.

 

_Remember that being emergency foster parents doesn’t give you grounds for custody. It doesn’t give you preferential treatment for adoption. Your children can be removed at any time, on any grounds, from your care._

 

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, watched her little eyes flutter momentarily, and felt his heart ache.

 

“Freddie?” He said quietly as he stepped into the shower; he wrapped his arms around his lover from behind, resting his forehead against the back of his neck. “Freddie, darling, I can’t do this.” He sighed.

 

He turned quickly, brushing Jim’s wet hair from his face. “Can’t do what?” He questioned, stomach churning painfully with anxiety; they’d only been married half a year, there couldn’t already be problems on the horizon. “Darling, I swear, I’ll do anything-”

 

“It’s not that.” He sighed and let his hands squeeze that waist, the waist of the man that had brought him love and a career and a family and happiness. “I can’t bear the thought of losing Talulah.”

 

Freddie swallowed, unable to meet his eyes for a moment. “I know.” His voice was a little broken when he finally spoke. “I know, darling, I didn’t think it would be so hard. I didn’t think we’d get attached so quickly.” He admitted.

 

Jim rested his forehead on Freddie’s shoulder and Freddie held him tightly. He knew how badly Jim wanted a daughter, the dreams he’d told him about when they’d started discussing children properly. The dreams were tantalisingly close now, so close he could touch and hear and taste them, and yet the technicolor splashes were about to be ripped from under his palms. “We-” Freddie started, but paused, unable to guess whether his suggestion would make the situation better or worse, whether it would get their hopes up too high. “If she goes up for adoption, we could try?”

 

“You’d do that?” Jim asked quickly, head snapping back up. “I thought you said none until-”

 

“I was wrong.” Freddie said softly. “Darling, I love Talulah as much as you do. I thought I didn’t want any children under school age, I thought I didn’t want more until Bear was older, but I was wrong. I love Talulah.”

 

Jim looked as though Freddie had promised him the whole world. “But it might not…” He trailed off, hoping Freddie understood and knew more than he did.

 

“They’re searching for her other family.” He explained. “If she has other eligible family, then she’ll have to go to them, and it’s hard to not be eligible as family.” He swallowed a little. “A history of domestic violence, child abuse, substance abuse, prison stays, something like that. She doesn’t seem like that kind of family.” He sighed. “But if they can’t find anyone, they’ll put her up for adoption. And we might lose out to another couple, if they’re a better fit.” The words left a bitter taste in his mouth. “They might decide she needs a mother.”

 

“But we could try?” Jim sounded so small then, so hopeful.

 

“We’re already registered as safe and we’ve gone through the whole eligibility process, so they’ll be able to do it quicker.” Freddie had been at the forefront of the whole process, and now Jim understood why; he knew so much about it. “Which will be good if they factor in speed. We also know her, which is a bonus. We have a huge support network, and we already have another child her age for company that we have a stellar record with.”

 

Jim was quiet for a little while, eyes focused on a spot on the wall. “I really want a little girl, Fred.” He said after the pause.

 

“I know, darling.” Freddie rubbed his thumb along Jim’s cheekbone. “I do too. We’ll get the perfect little girl, I promise.”

 

Jim smiled then, heavy and tired and still a little unsure. “And this is why I love you.” He kissed him softly. “We’ll do it together.”

 

Freddie smiled. “Together.” He echoed, chest blooming with happiness at the shared sentiment.

 

Fingers massaged therapeutic suds through tired hair, washed skin tainted with forgetting to shave and sweat and other things that Jim wouldn’t even consider with two sleeping children upstairs. He wondered what it would be like to play bathtime with Talulah; he often wasn’t back from work by the time Freddie did bathtime with Oliver, cleaning away the day’s paint and grazed knees and making him giggle with piles of bubbles on top of his head. He imagined she would be calmer, less boisterous, would splash him with the water and blow bubbles at him with all the laughter in the world, the best melody that he could possibly imagine.

 

Freddie tilted his head back to wash the product from his hair and Jim dropped a kiss on the column of his throat, focusing back in on the man he loved in front of him. He could see the heaviness around his eyes, the small movements that betrayed how much he needed to sleep; his body was attuned to sleeping before ten and waking up at half four, and he was still adjusting to being awake at nearly midnight without fear of the repercussions. The dancing, the sex, the emotion of the day all took their toll after a while, manifesting in a sudden clinginess and need to be looked after.

 

Jim, after all this time, loved to oblige. As Freddie recovered, became stronger and more independent and less frightened, he felt almost as though he’d lost a purpose, but he’d never lost these moments.

 

“Let’s get you to bed.” Jim kissed his temple and picked him up, helping dry him and dress him as though he were one of the children before carrying him to bed. Just as they settled, Jim thought he heard the softest, quietest little sound outside the door; he opened it quickly to see Oliver and his blanket.

 

“Bear?” Jim asked softly, crouching down to see him properly. He didn’t look perturbed in any way, not upset or angry or grumpy or sad for no apparent reason. “Darling, are you okay?”

 

Oliver nodded quickly, sucking his thumb. “Lulah’s crying.” He told Jim. “I think she’s sad.”

 

Jim hugged his son tightly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Thank you for telling me.” He said softly. “Darling, I’m so proud of you. You hop back into bed, I’ll go and see Lulah.”

 

He looked over at Freddie; being the lighter sleeper, he often did nighttime calls, despite needing the sleep more. He was more used to soothing midnight tears, and a little part of Jim wanted to make him soothe these, afraid of getting it wrong.

 

If she was going to be his daughter, then he had to be better.

 

He gently knocked on Talulah’s door and then walked in, hearing little sniffles coming from the corner of the crib. “Lulah?” He asked softly, getting a little whimper in response. “Oh, darling, what’s wrong?” He carefully leaned over the crib and picked her up.

 

He didn’t miss the way she flinched, but she quickly started to calm when he cradled her close and rocked her a little. In some ways, looking after an upset child wasn’t dissimilar to what he’d done with Freddie; the movements were the same, the physical methods all familiar to him. He stood by the window and let her look outside, gently shushing her as he walked around the room with her.

 

“Daddy.” She murmured quietly, and at first it hit Jim in the chest; she didn’t want him, she wanted Freddie, she wanted the one who was better with her-

 

He forced himself to calm down. She was calming in his arms, and she didn’t seem to be asking for anyone else. In fact, she was clutching to him tighter, hands in his t-shirt.

 

_She called them the same because she wasn’t used to having two fathers._

 

He kissed the top of her head. “It’s okay, Lulah, I’m here.” He said softly. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

 

“Dream.” She said quietly, closing her eyes. After crying for ten minutes, she’d worn herself out. “Daddy hit me.”

 

Jim’s gut wrenched. “Freddie?” He asked her quietly. She couldn’t have these dreams from nowhere, and he suddenly felt sick with the knowledge that he’d never even considered anything possibly happening.

 

She shook her head. “Daddy.” She repeated. “Mummy and daddy.”

 

Jim carried her over to the mirror; her head was over his shoulder, and so she didn’t notice as he very carefully moved the bottom of her top to show her lower back. Sure enough, everything he’d hoped to never see again: blue skin, purple skin, skin shades of ugly yellow.

 

They’d said she’d lost her parents in an incident, and Freddie and he had assumed some awful accident, a house fire or a car crash or something worse. They’d never considered that the incident might be an intervention.

 

He pressed a kiss to the side of her head, going back to rocking her again. “It’s okay, baby.” He said softly; maybe a thousand years ago he’d said the same thing to Freddie. “You’re going to be okay, sweetheart.”

 

_Jim eased Freddie’s fist from where it was jammed into his mouth as he began to calm, taking it carefully and lightly tracing his thumb over the bite marks. “You’re going to be okay.” He promised again, lacing their fingers together. “I promise, Freddie. You’re going to be okay.”_


	4. Aura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stress takes a toll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little bit sad but I've tried to stay true to patterns of behaviour that would persist throughout their lives. This chapter is sponsored by the headache I’ve had for four days that I’m really hoping doesn’t become another migraine but also maybe if it does this hell will end.

“I’m so sorry about this.” Olga pulled Jim aside. “I know you’re not his- his keeper, his parent, whatever. I’m just genuinely concerned that he’s quite ill and it’s not really my place to intervene.”

 

“No, thank you.” Jim insisted, putting his baton down on top of the piano. “I’ll go and get Joby to continue this and I’ll go and see him.”

 

In the heat and craze of the past few days, it had been easy to lose track of the essentials in trying to make sure everything had been done for the children. Only the night before, it had occurred to him that Freddie and he had gone to bed without eating since midday, but Freddie was fast asleep before he could raise the question. They hadn’t had the time to check in with one another in a haze of paperwork and phone calls and that ever-increasing tiredness that clung around Freddie’s eyes. He knew, for a fact, that having to report the abuse of a child brought back memories that he’d never wanted to relive; he’d seen more than a few red eyes after showers, trembling fingers around coffee cups as he stared into the distance. He was forever awake in the night again, tossing and turning, too hot or too cold, up and out of the bed to try and let Jim rest.

 

He knocked on the bathroom door gently. “Freddie?” He tried to keep his voice low; he could never know what would meet him on the other side. “Freddie, love, it’s Jim. Can you open the door for me, sweetheart?”

 

“Unlocked.” Freddie replied, and Jim’s heart sunk a little; slurred, single word replies were never a good sign. He pushed open the door slowly, taking in the sight of Freddie: he was still in those legwarmers, trying to keep his injury warm as he danced, hair hastily swept from his face. In truth, he looked awful; pale, clammy and sweaty, hands trembling badly as he leaned over and was violently sick again.

 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Jim wrapped an arm around his shoulders, feeling how badly he was shaking. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me you weren’t well?”

 

He thought for a moment. Maybe he hadn’t picked up the signs like he usually would.

 

_Freddie was still sleeping when Jim woke, or at least he was pretending to be. It was so unlike him to sleep late, and Jim smiled to himself; Freddie always got grumpy when he wasn’t woken up with everyone else. He pulled their curtains open, flooding the room with the bright morning sunshine, and got a minute whimper in response as Freddie tugged the blanket over his head. “Come on, lazy bones.” Jim dropped a kiss on the blanket over his head. “We’ve got a school run to do.”_

 

“I’m sorry.” Freddie croaked and Jim helped him wash out his mouth with water from his bottle.

 

“No need for sorries.” He promised and kissed the side of his head. “How’s your head and your vision?”

 

He’d known him long enough to know that he could persist through almost anything, through broken bones and torn tendons and the flu and even the beginnings of pneumonia. The things he couldn’t persist through, though, were those awful migraines.

 

_Talulah giggled as Jim picked her up from her crib. “What’s so funny, miss?” He asked playfully, kissing the top of her head. Her laughter was infectious, and Jim wanted to hear it every day._

 

_“I saw Daddy!” She told him. “He bumped into the table and the chair!”_

 

“Aura.” Freddie murmured and he nodded, pulling him into his lap. There was no chance he could dance if his whole world was spinning around him, crafting some form of psychedelic pattern with each turn and blacking out the peripheral vision that helped him balance.

 

“Do you know the trigger?” He asked softly, resting a hand just above his forehead to help him block out the bright, fluorescent lights.

 

“Probably stress.” He relaxed and closed his eyes, trying to stave off the crushing pain above his left eye. “Haven’t been sleeping well. Drinking too much coffee.”

 

Jim kissed the top of his head. “Sounds like we need to get you home.” He said softly. “I’ll take the rest of the day off.”

 

Freddie started to protest, but he shushed him gently. “If we treat this today, then you might be okay by tomorrow. If we drag it out, it only gets worse and stays longer.” He said firmly. “If we go now, then we have time to have lunch and have a bath before the kids need picking up. Then I can put you down for a nap before they get home.”

 

Freddie smiled begrudgingly then, letting Jim pick him up easily. “I sound smaller than Bear.” He joked, replacing Jim’s hand over his eyes with his own.

 

“You are, when you’re like this.” Jim chuckled and picked up his ballet bag quickly. “I’ll be putting you and Lulah down at the same time.”

  
  


The water was warm but gentle against his skin, the room was dark, and the body next to his was firm and comforting. “Thank you.” He murmured as Jim ran the water through his hair, it feeling comparatively cool against his burning skin. “Feels nice.”

 

“That’s the idea.” He said quietly and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ve been slacking in looking after you.”

 

“I’m an adult.” Freddie protested. “I should be better at looking after myself.”

 

“We all forget when we’re stressed or busy.” He soothed him gently. “We both forgot dinner last night, and I bet you didn’t have breakfast, either.”

 

“I felt too sick.” He replied quietly; he couldn’t deny how good it felt to be full again.

 

“Which is why we both need to take better care of you. You crumble around the edges when things stop going to plan.” He wrapped both arms around him. “How’s your head?”

 

Freddie had the sensation of floating, as though his brain were floating alone in the tub of water, his body completely vanished. His body felt numb and heavy, the same way as it had all those years ago when the drugs had taken over; except this time, the numbness was comforting. “Better.” He said softly and closed his eyes, tucking his head against Jim’s collarbone.

 

Sometimes, Freddie felt like his cuddliest child; Jim wouldn’t trade it for the world. “You’re all snuggly.” He said playfully. “Have I been slacking on that duty, too?”

 

He smiled, leaving the question unanswered. Jim could feel his muscles twitching in one of his legs. Since the acute stress of the trial against Paul, he’d had migraines on a semi-regular basis, but he only had them with auras very occasionally. Afterwards, when Jim had come clean over his own trauma, their relationship had become unbalanced in the opposite direction; it had taken a long time for them to rock into balance, to find the right mix of taking and giving, supporting and being supported.

 

Freddie had been so strong throughout the adoption process, talking openly about trauma and past experience, but Jim knew that it had been hard for him. In some ways, now that he was ‘better’ and he no longer had to go through his years of treatment, he was less inclined to talk about his problems, and more likely to use the coping mechanisms he’d learned; while Jim appreciated no longer being the sole confidant, he also missed knowing exactly what was going on in his mind, being able to predict the little things.

 

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” He kissed his temple. “What’s gotten you so stressed out?”

 

The water felt like a blanket around him in some ways, covering him and protecting him and thawing out cold skin. He hadn’t realised how tired, just how exhausted he really felt; years of treatment could never undo the urge he still had to put himself last, to pursue others’ happiness before his own. “Talulah.” He said quietly, eyes still closed.

 

How could he begin to express the acute guilt he felt over pushing Jim into having a son when he was obviously besotted with the idea of a daughter?

 

“I don’t want you to leave Bear and me behind if we can’t have her.” He admitted; a cold sweat broke over his exposed skin as he admitted it. He hated the truth, sometimes. He knew he had a tendency to assume and prepare himself for the worst outcome of any situation, but it was so innate and ingrained that he couldn’t cleanse himself of it. “I’m scared that you’ll find a pretty girl to have children with so you don’t have to go through eligibility and rejection and heartbreak again.”

 

“Freddie, sweetheart.” Jim repositioned them so he could wrap his arms the whole way around him. “I’m gay, darling, I’m not going to be finding any woman to replace you. I know I used to be unsure before, but I know now.” He kissed the side of his neck. “I’m not going to find anyone to replace you and Bear. You’re my family.” He said softly. “And we can keep trying until we find the right little girl.”

 

“I think it’s-” He bit down on the underside of his cheek; he wanted to crawl out of his own skin. “Seeing Talulah abandoned and neglected like that, it just makes me-” He trailed off again. “You should be more upset by it than I am, you went through so much worse, I don’t know why I can’t be strong-”

 

Jim pressed a firm finger to his lips. Part of understanding each other, caring for each other, loving each other, was recognising the beginnings of survivor’s guilt. “Don’t compare yourself.” He said, voice a little firmer. “We deal with it differently. I was young, Freddie, and I could work with other people. You were all on your own, that’s the difference.” He rested a hand over his forehead to feel his temperature. “You’re more affected by it because it’s closer to you.”

 

“I hate how bloody rational you are.” He cursed half-heartedly. “It just made me think about the trial again, and I didn’t want reminding.”

 

Jim nodded and grabbed a towel from the railing to dry his hands. “The longer you store it up in here.” He tapped on his temple gently; each movement still felt like thunder in Freddie’s skull. “The worse it becomes. Even if we’ve got a thousand children and a million cats, I’ve still got time to sit down and listen to you.”

  
  


Freddie didn’t look a day over eighteen when he was asleep, still holding onto the hollows and contours of his youth. Jim smiled as he looked over him, quickly pulling on some clothes to pick up Talulah from Mary and Oliver from nursery; he wondered how he still got the same satisfaction from fixing his problems as he had all those years ago back in that bar. While he was equally upset over their discovery, a lot of his anxiety had rested on Freddie’s response; in reality, a migraine was easily treatable and the guilt wasn’t as severe as he’d anticipated.

 

_Talulah holding one hand, Oliver holding hers in return; he didn’t interrupt when he heard them chattering earnestly._

 

_“Daddy?” Talulah asked, and Jim took a moment to respond; he had trained himself to ignore that as a call for Freddie, not requiring his immediate action._

 

_“He’s not Daddy!” Oliver said crossly. “Freddie’s Daddy.”_

 

_“They’re both daddies.” Talulah replied petulantly. “What’s Jim?”_

 

_“Pop!” Oliver insisted. “Daddy and Pop.”_

 

_“Pop.” Talulah echoed and then smiled. “Pop! Like bubbles!”_

 

_“Like bubbles!” Oliver nodded. “Pop, pop, pop.”_

 

_Talulah made a popping sound with her lips and then started giggling. “Pop!” She called again._

 

_“Yes, darling?” Jim replied, and she squealed with delight._

 

_“Pop!” She repeated._

 

Towards the end of the walk, she’d grown tired; Jim had picked her up and carried her over one shoulder, listening to Oliver as they walked- _look, Pop, I can walk the whole way by myself because I’m big!_

 

After about a thousand demands of _where’s Daddy?_ when they’d gotten home, Jim had relented and told them both that he was in bed, and _he’s very poorly, so we can’t wake him up._

 

Talulah wasn’t in danger of doing much but sleeping, and yet she clung to him every time he tried to put her down; logically, he had to make the dinner and try and tidy up the playroom, but he couldn’t do any of that when she wanted to sleep on him. He took her upstairs, her little eyes barely open, and opened their bedroom door quietly.

 

Freddie lay curled around Jim’s pillow, fast asleep. Jim carefully lay Talulah on the bed, and she nearly squealed before she realised he was asleep; instead, she crawled closer to him and wedged herself between Freddie and the pillow. Freddie smiled tiredly as he woke, wrapping a warm around her and pulling her closer. “Hello, beautiful.” He murmured roughly.

 

_The phone rang, and Jim dashed downstairs lest it woke them both up. “Jim and Freddie Hutton?” He spoke quickly, a little out of breath._

_“Jim! Just the man I was looking for. It’s Charlotte from the adoption agency.”_

_“Charlotte.” He replied, voice warm and kind. With Talulah and Freddie asleep, Oliver occupied with a new colouring book, it was probably the best time for a call. “What’s going on?”_

_“I have an update about Talulah and family.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys can't ask me to write loads and then not comment when I write you 3000 words smh that's just rude this is a mutual contract. Come on kids, I want some detailed speculation in the comments (bonus points if you can back it up with quotations!)


	5. Bath Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If I'm the perfect daddy, you're the perfect pop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly just gets fluffier the more you read I promise

“Jim?” Freddie called, tainted with desperation; the room was dark, he was alone, he was frightened and in pain and his throat was threatening to close up with fear. “Jim!” He shouted louder, pulling the blanket up higher as some kind of makeshift guard; his breathing grew ragged, his mind clouding over with the fear of being alone-

 

The bedroom door opened and he was swept into a pair of strong arms; he breathed out slowly and clutched onto his lover. “Jim-” He repeated, his voice quieter as a pair of lips touched his forehead. 

 

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Freddie had heard him use that exact voice on Oliver, and the familiarity made him breathe a little easier. “Are you okay, darling? What happened?”

 

The pain made him want to bleach his own brain, made him want to wash it clean just to make it stop. “I had a terror.” He whispered, squeezing his eyes shut tightly; he was caught between struggling to bear the light coming from the open doorway and not wanting to see the faces again when he closed his eyes. It had been so long since he’d had a proper night terror, at least a year of no problems.

 

Jim lay him back down carefully and lay beside him, holding onto his hand. While usually, he would do something more, stroke his hair or his face, he didn’t want to risk irritating him if he was sensitive to little movements. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked softly.

 

He seemed to falter for a second but eventually nodded. He missed talking things through with Jim. “It just- it felt like somebody was gripping my throat.” He sniffed a little, dragged the heel of his hand across his face. “Really- really squeezing, hard.” He thumbed over his neck nervously, as though tracing old bruises.

 

It wasn’t hard to find comfort in the easy, consistent rhythm that Jim was stroking his hand with; he’d dealt with so much over the years that he knew the antidote to almost anything. “You’re safe.” He very gently kissed Freddie’s lips and was consoled when he kissed back. “Even if I’m downstairs, you’re always safe in this house. I’m never far away. I won’t let anyone hurt you, my love.” He promised.

 

The tension seemed to fade from across his shoulders and he nodded. “Thank you, darling.” He said after a pause. “What did I do to deserve you?” He smiled a little and cupped Jim’s cheek.

 

“You love me, and that’s all I could ever ask for.” Jim smiled and kissed the palm of his hand. “You’ve given me a home, a career and a family. There’s no one I’d rather live my life with.”

 

The smile on his face grew and he lay back on the pillow, stroking his thumb across his husband’s cheekbone. There wasn’t anything that he believed he couldn’t do with him. “I love you.” He said softly.

 

Jim looked down when he saw a shadow fall across the floor of the bedroom; Talulah stood at the door, pajamas on and teddy bear in hand, sucking her thumb nervously. “Daddy?” She asked softly.

 

“Do you want to come and see Daddy, darling? He’s awake now.” Jim offered and she nodded immediately, walking over to the bed and stretching out her arms to be picked up. He lifted her up and placed her down in the middle of them. “We have to be nice and quiet so we don’t hurt Daddy’s head.” He told her.

 

She leaned up and kissed Freddie’s forehead, and his heart almost burst with love for her. “What was that for, sweetheart?” He asked her softly.

 

“I’m making your head better.” She told him with a smile. “Grandma said kisses make it better.”

 

Freddie cooed a little. “Your grandma was right.” He told her. “Kisses are magic.”

 

“Magic?” She replied, cuddling up against Jim’s chest. Now that she had two parents to love her and look after her, she often didn’t know which one she wanted to go to. She knew by now, however, that she loved Jim’s hugs. 

 

“Magic.” He replied. “Because they make everyone feel better.”

 

Suddenly, there was another little body on the bed as Oliver crawled his way over to Freddie. “Daddy!” He shouted with excitement.

 

“Shh!” Talulah replied crossly. “Daddy’s head hurts.”

 

Oliver pouted but was quickly back to smiles when Freddie held his arms open for him. “We have to be quiet, but we can have some cuddles.” He kissed Oliver’s forehead. 

 

“That’s magic.” Talulah looked up at Jim. “Pop, Daddy just did magic.” She whispered incredulously.

 

Jim wasn’t sure he’d ever been happier in his whole life. “He did.” He agreed with her and then kissed her forehead. “I can do magic too.”

 

She squealed with excitement and though he winced, Freddie couldn’t help but smile. Every word thundered through his skull, but it was worth it to see his children so happy. 

 

_ His children.  _ He looked over at Talulah and his heart ached. They’d originally agreed that Talulah would come on the Thursday and be taken away again on the Wednesday, and it was now Monday night. He wasn’t ready for his little girl to go.

 

Jim took one of the hair-bands out of Talulah’s now slightly haphazard braids. Freddie was strangely skilled at a variety of things, but his braids would never last more than half a day; Jim mostly did her hair to keep it neat and tidy.

 

To see that little girl going from frightened, dirty, and hungry to happy, healthy, and clean had to be one of the most gratifying things he’d ever experienced.

 

“Does anybody want to know some really good news?” He asked, combing his fingers through soft blonde hair. It was his turn to do bath time this evening, and he was absurdly excited.  

 

“Me!” The children replied in tandem, and Freddie laughed, nodding. It was wonderful to see his mood change so much with the input of his family.

 

“Well, we all know that little Lulah was going to go on another adventure on Wednesday to find her some more people to look after her forever and ever.” He started; Freddie immediately perked up, propping himself up on one elbow. “Well, sweetheart, you’re going to get to stay with us a little bit longer.”

 

Freddie gasped and Talulah squealed loudly, throwing her little arms around Jim’s neck. “I get to stay with Daddy and Pop!”

 

Freddie leaned over to kiss him properly this time, smiling widely. “How long for?” He asked softly.

 

“At least a month.” Jim grinned and kissed him again. “I’ll tell you the details later.”

 

“Is Lulah my sister?” Oliver asked Jim hopefully.

 

“It’s complicated, Bear.” Jim smiled. “Remember when Daddy and I had to look after you for a little while before you got to come home with us? It’s like that. We have to look after Lulah for a bit longer while they sort it out.” He explained. “Would you like Lulah to be your sister?”

 

He nodded furiously. “She plays with me when you’re busy and she can draw really good cats and she knows how to make Peaches purr really loud.” His little voice sounded so determined, like he was trying to convince Jim. “She’s my home-friend.”

 

Talulah beamed at him and moved to hug Oliver instead. “You’re my home-friend too!” She said happily.    
  


* * *

 

The bathroom wasn’t really big enough for four but after Talulah’s insistence that she wanted to show Freddie a trick with the bubbles, neither of them felt as though they could deny their children their time. With the help of painkillers and the stress dramatically falling from his shoulders, the migraine had begun to subside; though a dull pain throbbed at the back of his head, Freddie could at least stand lights and a little more noise now. 

 

Oliver giggled as Freddie kissed his nose after putting his pajama top on. Freddie had fallen in love with Oliver from the first moment they’d met him in the children’s home; a tiny Parsi boy, not dissimilar from Freddie himself at that age, selectively mute with communicative issues. They’d both agreed that they wanted to adopt a child a little older, one that was starting school, and one that otherwise might have been overlooked by other potential parents: Oliver, unwilling to talk, seemed to fit their ideas perfectly.

 

_ Their first meeting had just been Freddie on his own; Jim was called in to cover another violinist, and Freddie refused to cancel on a little boy that already had problems with abandonment. Although their meeting had been quiet, they’d drawn and exchanged pictures together; Freddie drew him a picture of Peaches and promised that he’d get to meet him someday soon. In return, Oliver had secretly drawn a picture of himself standing next to Freddie, stood outside a conventional little townhouse with multi-coloured bricks. He’d shakily written his name underneath it, and was so shy to hand it over. _

 

_ As he’d been about to leave, Oliver had thrown his little arms around one leg. Freddie picked him up, kissed his forehead and held him close; he wondered how long it had been since the little boy had experienced genuine tenderness and affection. Freddie had carried him up to the window and shown him all the little houses on the horizon, pointing out which one was his, which one he hoped Oliver would come and live in soon. And as he was about to put him down, having already overstayed his appointment time, Oliver had spoken. _

 

_ “I like you.” He’d said, little voice rough from months without use.  _

 

_ “I like you, too.” Freddie smiled and hugged him again. “I’ll be back soon, I promise.” _

 

_ And Oliver had held onto that promise. _

 

_ So when Freddie had come back a few days later with a new jumper for him - he’d noticed how his old one was a little small and tattered around the edges - he’d refused to take it off for days, and he’d told everybody that ‘my daddy got this for me’. _

 

_ And that was how Freddie had become ‘Daddy’. _

 

“Look at you, munchkin.” He teased and kissed his son’s nose, again and again, peppering him with playful love. “You’re getting so big!”

 

“I’m a big boy now, Daddy!” He said proudly.

 

“You are!” Freddie grinned and sat him on his knee to brush his hair. “Shall we make you all fluffy?”

 

He wrinkled his nose. He hated having his hair brushed. “I tell you what.” Freddie grinned as he carefully started brushing. “If you’re really, really good, you can have a biscuit before bed.”

 

“Yes!” He said excitedly, settling down easily. “Daddy, I love you.”

 

“I love you too, little man.” He smiled, noticing how Oliver tried to stifle his yawn. He always hated bedtime, but he fell asleep easily and Jim and he rarely had trouble with him.

 

He snuggled close to Freddie’s chest when his hair was brushed, clinging tight. “Dewsett darem.” The little boy murmured; Freddie’s heart leaped in his chest. He’d known his Iranian heritage, of course - it could practically be seen in those beautiful black curls and his light eyes. It had just never occurred to him that his son was anything other than English.

 

“Darling-” Freddie cuddled him closer and kissed his forehead. “Sweetheart, Bear, say that again.” 

 

Those beautiful pale green eyes met his as Oliver stretched out and then found comfort in the contours of Freddie’s body. “Dewsett darem, baba.” He whispered, rubbing one hand over his tired eyes.

 

Freddie held him so close; he felt as though he were having an out of body experience, suddenly knowing that his son was so much closer to him than he thought. “Men hem shema ra dewset darem, moosh-am.” He teased, watching Oliver smile widely.

 

“Pop?” Talulah looked up at Jim as he washed her hair. “Pop, what are they saying?”

 

Jim chuckled. “Not everyone speaks English all the time.” He told her. “They’re speaking a special language called Persian. They both learned it as little boys.”

  
  
“Could I speak it too?” She asked curiously. “What are they saying?”

 

“You could learn it.” Jim nodded. “They’re saying that they love each other.”

 

She smiled then and looked up at Jim. “I love you, Pop.”

 

Jim’s heart could’ve burst there and then. “I love you too, sweetness.” He peppered her cheeks with kisses. “I love you a lot.”

 

She giggled, her cheeks turning pink. “Pop, I like it here. I don’t want to go home anymore.” She told him.

 

He smiled widely. “Daddy and I are going to try our hardest to keep you forever and ever.” He promised her.

 

“Good.” She started giggling again; Jim had never met a child that laughed so much. “Because I love Ollie and I love you and I love Daddy and I love Peaches and I don’t want to go home. I told the lady that I want to go home but I don’t want to. Can you tell her I want to stay here?”

 

Jim nodded and carefully rinsed the conditioner from her hair. “Of course I can, darling.” He promised. “We want you to stay forever and ever and ever.”   
  


 

_ Freddie laughed as he was twirled around the garden; the cool air felt good against his warm skin. He wrapped his arms around Jim’s neck as they swayed together, evening sunshine bathing them both in liquid gold; he swore he taste it as their lips touched. The taste of gold was the taste of happiness, was sweet treats after dinner, was that ridiculous raspberry lip gloss that Mary had given Talulah and that transferred onto his cheeks with every kiss. The taste of gold was the sweetness of the small bottle of champagne they shared, the cold, crispness reflecting from his tongue and bouncing against the warmth of his body. _

 

_ “How’s your head?” Jim asked between kisses. _

 

_ “You’ve fixed me, darling.” Freddie smiled and kissed him slow and long. “It’s just that headache hangover now, and I’ve dealt with that enough.” _

 

_ “Little soldier.” Jim teased and kissed the corner of his mouth and his cheek. _

 

_ “Says my doctor.” Freddie giggled as kisses trailed over his jawline. “You know me far too well.” _

 

_ Jim laughed, lips still pressed to his warm skin. “Darling?” He asked softly. _

 

_ Freddie let himself be walked backwards until he hit the garden table and hopped up on it quickly. “What is it, my love?” He asked softly. _

 

_ “Will you talk to me more?” He asked hopefully. “Like you used to. You used to tell me everything that troubled you.” _

 

_ Freddie smiled as their foreheads touched. “Of course I will.” He promised. “I’m sorry, my darling, I thought I was lessening the burden on you. You know I get all irrational sometimes.” _

 

_ “I know.” Jim cupped his cheek and stroked his thumb over his lower lip. “I know, I thought it would help too. But I worry too much about some things and then you end up getting ill because you’re bottling it all up. When I know what’s going on, then I don’t have to worry about all the possibilities.” He explained. _

 

_ Freddie nodded and chased his lips for a kiss, but Jim pulled back a little. “Promise me?” He asked softly. _

 

_ “I promise.” Freddie cupped the back of his neck with one hand. “I promise, darling, I promise.” _

 

_ Satisfied, they kissed, long and lazy, for a few minutes. Jim stood between Freddie’s spread legs, one hand on his cheek and the other on his waist; Freddie’s arms were wrapped around his neck, crossed at the wrists, holding him close. _

 

_ “What’s the full story with Talulah?” He asked when they broke away. “Not that I’m not thrilled, darling, but what happened?” _

 

_ “They found her family.” Jim explained, tucking Freddie’s hair back from his face. “They’re ineligible to adopt. They can’t put children into the hands of those convicted for abuse, even if they’re family, and there’s a series of convictions and accusations against her family.” _

 

_ Freddie smiled then. “So she’s up to adopt for us?” _

 

_ “Yeah.” Jim grinned then and kissed him more passionately, tugging gently on his lower lip. “Yeah, she could be ours. I put our names down as soon as I got the news. I know I should’ve waited for you, love, but I was too excited.” _

 

_ “I’m glad you did.” Freddie grinned and hugged him tightly then, his chest blooming with happiness. They could do it. They could have two children. _

 

_ “We’ll find out by the end of the week if we’ve been accepted. If we haven’t, we’ve got her until the end of the month.” Jim smiled up at the sky, at the evening sun that warmed his face. “And Charlotte’s going to put in a good word on all the amazing work you’ve done with Oliver and his speech therapy.” _

 

_ Freddie blushed then; it had seemed natural to him, to help his son develop his speech, but he hadn’t realised it was worth such merit. “I didn’t realise-” He started. _

 

_ “You never realise how amazing you are.” Jim smiled and pecked his lips again. “But they’re so impressed, Fred. He’s come on leaps and bounds with you.” _

 

_ “With us.” Freddie insisted. _

 

_ “With us.” Jim echoed. “But I think he found the perfect daddy in you.” _

 

_ “Then you’re the perfect pop.” Freddie grinned, pulling him down again. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Persian:  
> "I love you, daddy"  
> "I love you too, little mouse" (apparently a common Persian pet name?)
> 
> Thank you for all the amazing speculation I was very happy to wake up to so much interaction!! Today we'll do introductions because I realised you guys simultaneously know everything and nothing about me and I know literally nothing about you guys. So comment your name (if you want to), age, country and what you're currently doing with your life below (especially if you're a regular commenter because I know all of you by username but I don't know anything about you)!
> 
> So: I'm Lily, I'm 18, I live in the UK and I'm just about to go off to study for a degree in English literature in London!


	6. Leg Warmers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A domestic day and a welfare visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I MADE A MOODBOARD hope you like it kids (definitely contains spoilers for later chapters but hey) also you can't see Mcrae's shirt but it says "discipline is not a dirty word" and I like that  
> \- go onto tumblr if you want to view the full-size version!

 

 

“Can I steal your jumper?” Freddie asked hopefully, dropping a quick kiss on Talulah’s head. “I went for shorts and it’s actually so much colder than I anticipated.”

 

Jim stripped off his jumper quickly and Freddie kissed his cheek appreciatively, running back into the centre in time for the next dance. “Aren’t you cold, Pop?” Talulah asked him, waving her little legs in the air. The morning had been such a rush that they hadn’t had any time to sort out childcare for Talulah, so now she lay on her front on top of the grand piano next to Jim. Although she had a colouring book, she was far more interested in what was going on in the class.

 

Jim laughed and grabbed the spare sweater from his bag. “I always bring a spare one, because Daddy likes to steal them.” He told her, listening out for instructions on the tempo he needed to play.

 

She smiled then, falling quiet when he started to play. It was Freddie’s first class back from injury, and though he took it gently, he also knew his own merit in comparison to some of the other dancers; he was now more confident than ever in himself.

 

“I think Daddy’s the prettiest dancer in the whole wide world.” She told Jim earnestly, watching him in wonder. She’d seen little bits of the intensive rehabilitation work he’d been doing, but she hadn’t seen anything like this before.

 

“Me too.” Jim kissed her head quickly. “Daddy’s one of the best dancers in the whole world.”

 

“Really?” She asked excitedly. “Could I dance like Daddy?”

 

“If you wanted to.” He smiled. “Daddy started when he was a lot older than you.”

 

She watched in awe as he moved, and Jim couldn’t help but glance over the top of the piano to watch what had her in raptures. It was a slower routine, softer, defined by turns instead of the jetés that he would usually do uninjured, but it was truly beautiful to watch. Jim watched as Freddie seemed to fall into each movement in turn, everything coming together so naturally as though he hadn’t been told the choreography about fifteen seconds earlier. He forced his fingers to keep moving so that the dancing would continue, even when all he wanted to do was watch on in awe; they were contingent upon one another, and he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.

 

She gasped in wonder as he turned so quickly, hearing the teacher start to laugh with delight. “A blur of chaînés!” She joked and he laughed himself, pushing his hair back from his face. “You’re a show-off, Mr. Mercury.”

 

He’d placed his bag near to Talulah so that he’d have an excuse to come across and see his family every few minutes. As he came over, she had that same look of adoration on her face, and he couldn’t help but laugh. “A blur of chaînés!” She repeated; though she had no idea what it meant, she liked the way it sounded.

 

Freddie leaned on the piano next to her and smiled. “A chaîné is one of those super quick turns I was doing.” He explained to her; he laughed as she threw her arms around him quickly.

 

“I think you’re the prettiest dancer in the world!” She repeated her earlier sentiment, little cheeks glowing pink with love for her Daddy.

 

Freddie squeezed her playfully and kissed her nose. “I love you, Lulah.” He said softly.

 

“Love you too, Daddy.” She replied with a big smile.

 

* * *

 

The pasta was boiling for Oliver and Talulah’s dinner as Freddie flicked through his meal plan, wrinkling his nose a little at the all-too-familiar meals that he was given every time they wanted him to bulk up. He refused to put Jim through an endless cycle of salads, steamed vegetables, lean proteins, grains; he had insisted a thousand times that he didn’t mind cooking him something at least vaguely interesting.

 

“Quick, Pop!” He could hear Talulah’s voice from down the hallway and he smiled. “That train’s late!”

 

Oliver had always loved playing trains with his Pop, working with him to make the most exciting track that they possibly could together; they could arrange and rearrange pieces for hours, Oliver squealing with delight every time they managed to make a huge bridge or hill over the arm of the sofa.

 

Now it seemed like Talulah was enjoying it too.

 

He turned the radio up a little, letting the music work its way through his bones, adding a fluidity to the most mundane of little movements. This, he thought, this was the reason why he still danced, seven and a half years after joining the Royal; he found a happiness in dancing, in moving, in pretending to tap dance around the kitchen even though his feet were silent on the floor.

 

He laughed to himself, knowing that there was no way he would be allowed to do this if anyone else saw him; everyone, except himself, was hyper-focused on rest periods and long recovery times and nursing himself back to full movement. But he wanted to dance; he wanted to put the shoes on and let his feet speak for themselves. He turned the radio up higher as he practiced those long-forgotten steps for Alice, the Mad Hatter that he’d sprayed his hair pink for, after growing it out for at least six months.

 

He’d wanted to practice today; after all, the show started again in a few weeks, but they’d insisted he had to rest after taking a full class without breaks.

 

No one could police what he did here in his own kitchen.

 

The pirouette at the end felt electrifying, his skin crackling with the energy it took to spin so fast and keep it so in check; he reminded himself not to overbalance - this wasn’t en pointe, after all-

 

He squealed as he slipped on the floor - in hindsight, socks and tiles probably weren’t the best combination for fast turns. He laughed, a little winded, and lay on his back on the floor for a moment; he always seemed to end up here by the end of a rehearsal.

 

“Freddie?” He heard, and suddenly his giggles were infectious. Another voice laughed, the voice of his lover as he found him on the floor. “Fred- shit, are you alright?”

 

He took Jim’s extended hand and stood up quickly; his leg twinged a little but he hoped it wouldn’t hurt him more in the morning. “I’m fine, darling.” He chuckled. “Tiles, socks and good music don’t mix.”

 

Jim wrapped his arms around him to steady him. “How long have you been a dancer for?” He teased and kissed the end of his nose. “How long until dinner? The kids are hungry.”

 

“About five minutes.” Freddie kissed him properly then, hands on his shoulders. “Go back to them. You sound like you’re having the time of your life.”

 

“We worked out how to get the track up onto the coffee table, so now we’ve got the world’s biggest bridge.” Jim chuckled and kissed him again, pushing him lightly against the counter.

 

“Sounds like a master engineer to me.” He chuckled. “Go away. I’ll bring dinner in.”

 

As Jim walked back out into the hallway, the doorbell rang. “I’ve got it.” Freddie promised him and kissed his cheek.

 

He opened the door quickly and saw Charlotte on the other side, smiling. “I’ve come to do the obligatory welfare check.” She explained. “Oliver was due his three-month one and Talulah needed a checkup, so I thought we could roll them together so I didn’t have to waste more of your time.”

 

“Sounds wonderful.” Freddie smiled, quickly shutting the door to the lounge where the children were. They both tended to get upset when they saw Charlotte; they associated her with being taken away from comfort and security, as she’d been involved in both of their lives. For Talulah, she’d taken her away from her family when it had been deemed unsafe for her to live there; for Oliver, he’d been left on the doorstep of her agency one day without any explanation. “Can we do my bit first? Jim’s having such a lovely game with the both of them, and they’re due their dinner in two minutes.”

 

“Of course.” She smiled and followed him into the kitchen.

 

“Can I get you anything?” He offered as he quickly prepared their food. “Coffee, tea, water?”

 

“Coffee would be great.” She quickly arranged some papers on the table. “How’s your leg doing? You were on crutches the last time I saw you.”

 

“Really well.” He smiled as he flicked the kettle on. It looked like he’d have to stay up late to go through paperwork with her; he’d need the coffee too. “We thought originally that it was a grade three tear, which would’ve meant surgery. It ended up being a borderline one/two tear, so I was back in class today.”

 

“That’s good.” She chuckled and started to head and date the papers. “Was Jim home with Talulah?”

 

“She actually came with us.” Freddie chuckled as he pulled two bowls out of the cupboard. “Because Jim was due to play for us. She complimented everyone on their outfits and now she wants a skirt like Sarah’s.”

 

_“Pop?” Talulah asked, looking over at him. “Pop, I like that lady’s skirt.”_

 

_Jim smiled and looked over her shoulder. “Which one, sweetness?”_

 

_“The blue one.” She told him. “The soft one.”_

 

_“It is very pretty.” He agreed._

 

_“Can I have one like that?” She asked hopefully._

 

_“We’ll have to ask Daddy if they make them small enough.” He laughed; he wouldn’t dream of saying no._

 

“How did she do in that environment?” Charlotte asked curiously.

 

“Really well.” Freddie smiled. “She’s a little social butterfly, and she’s been the Opera House a couple of times over the last week with us. She was telling my ballet master all about Peaches.” He chuckled.

 

“She didn’t seem frightened, or anything?” She checked.

 

“Nothing like that. She took to Olga like a duck to water. I think she probably reminds her of her grandma.” He explained. “Besides, she’s always been with me or Jim, so she hasn’t had to do it alone.”

 

“That’s amazing, Freddie.” She smiled widely. “Can I ask you some questions about how you’re doing?”

 

“Two seconds.” Freddie picked up the bowls, added spoons and took them into the lounge. It was long enough to get a kiss from each child and to whisper in Jim’s ear a warning that the children might get upset.

 

“Of course you can.” He smiled as he came back into the kitchen, pouring out two coffees and a tea for Jim. “Milk and sugar?”

 

“Lot of milk, no sugar.” She smiled. “How are you feeling about two children? Is it manageable? Especially considering Talulah’s age.”

 

“It’s actually easier than I imagined. They’re both so sweet, they’re no trouble at all.” He smiled. “I must admit, the transition was a little more tricky because I had the most awful migraine while we were a few days in.”

 

“Have you had those migraines long? How did that work with the children?” She asked. Freddie hated how much they pried, but also knew that they had to for the sake of the children: they needed to know that he could be a good parent.

 

“I-” He took a sip of coffee as an excuse to pause and gave Charlotte hers. “I was assaulted when I was nineteen, and it caused my brain to swell. I’ve had migraines since then, whenever stress gets too high.” He explained. “It was actually very manageable. Jim and I both took the day off work so that I could rest it off and he could look after the children, and then we all got to have some cuddles before bath time.” He chuckled.

 

“Sounds good.” She smiled. “How’s Oliver doing with the new addition to the family?”

 

“He loves Lulah to pieces.” He leaned against the counter, blowing on his coffee. “They both insisted that they had to share a room. Lulah’s got her own room if she wants space, but we put the spare crib in Oliver’s room and now they sleep together at night. I think they find it comforting if they wake up in the night.”

 

“Do you have any recommendations for any prospective parents about how to treat Talulah?” She asked him; he hated the idea that they wouldn’t be the ones to have her, but he would play up to everything that was asked of him for the sake of their reputation as parents.

 

“She just wants to be loved.” Freddie smiled. “Lots of kisses, cuddles, little treats, remembering her favourite toys and her nightlight and things like that. She loves bubble baths, she loves drawing pictures, she loves dancing. She has quite a lot of nightmares, and she tends to get upset very quickly when she’s hungry or she’s thirsty, but it’s easily remedied by fulfilling whatever need she has and giving her a little bit of your time. She loves regularity, so she loves knowing what time Jim or Oliver will be home and what time dinner is and what time bedtime is.”

 

Charlotte smiled. “We’ve so far had three families interested in Talulah, excluding you and Jim, so we’ll have to go through some pretty rigorous testing. Two are new to the system, still going through eligibility checks, classic infertility cases, and one is a single older woman looking for a child. They’ve all chosen her for the way she looks.” He could hear the distaste in her voice and smiled into his coffee. They’d always chosen to help the children that needed it. “In all honesty, you’re looking like our best family so far, because you have experience in dealing with and helping Oliver through trauma. I don’t know if the others would be as besotted with her if they understood that she also came with midnight tears and attachment problems.”

 

“Jim’s done some amazing work with her.” He was desperate to present them in the best light possible. “He’s her first port of call for anything. She really trusts him.” He faltered for a second; the words were on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t know if they were appropriate. “It’s like he was for me when we first met.”

 

“And that’s why I’ll be backing you as her parents.” Charlotte smiled and stood up. “Is there any way that I can see the little ones-”

 

Two sets of little feet ran into the kitchen, baring empty bowls to be put in the sink. “Thank you, baba!” Oliver said happily. Freddie smiled; he could tell Oliver was getting tired. He was Daddy during the day, but he became baba when his little boy was ready for bed.

 

Both children completely ignored Charlotte until she spoke. “Hey there!” She said, voice high and light- the children immediately froze with fright. Talulah hid behind Jim’s leg, strikingly reminiscent of that first day they’d met, and Freddie picked Oliver up immediately; he buried his face into Freddie’s neck as though trying to hide.

 

“Hey-” Freddie said softly and kissed his temple. “Hey, Bear, it’s okay.”

 

“Will she take me away?” He asked, little voice trembling with tears that threatened to spill over. “Daddy, I’m sorry, please-”

 

“Hey.” Freddie made his voice a little firmer to catch his attention. The awful apologies were something Oliver had picked up from Freddie himself, those few terrible times that he’d witnessed Jim talking him down from a panic attack.

 

_He was shaking badly, gasping for breath, muttering broken apologies over and over again as he stared at the letter in his hands. “I’m sorry-” He sobbed out. “I’m sorry, Jim, I’m so sorry- please-” He covered his mouth with his hand, his face crumpling as he struggled to breathe. “I’m sorry!” He cried out, flinching as two arms wrapped around him._

 

_“Hey, hey-” Jim made his voice a little firmer, catching his attention. “Freddie, sweetheart, it’s okay. I’m not cross with you.” He kissed his forehead gently. “Come on, baby, breathe for me. It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re okay.”_

 

_Oliver stood behind them in the doorway, blanket in hand and sucking his thumb; his own nightmare faded into insignificance as he saw his father in tears. “Daddy?” He murmured quietly._

 

“M’sorry.” Oliver repeated in a little whimper, fists clenched tight in Freddie’s shirt.

 

“You haven’t got anything to be sorry for, sweetheart.” Freddie promised. “Let me see your beautiful face, darling- good boy.” He smiled and wiped his eyes gently. “The lady just wants to ask you how you are. She wants to know if you’re happy or sad or angry or frustrated with me and Pop. She’s not going to take you anywhere.”

 

Jim was holding Talulah in much the same way, though she hadn’t reacted quite as badly. She seemed to soften at Freddie’s words, snuggling more into her Pop’s arms.

 

“It’s quite close to bedtime.” Freddie told Charlotte as he kissed his son’s forehead, rocking him a little. “Sometimes we can get a little bit sad or frightened when we’re tired.”

 

They made their way into the lounge; Talulah’s fears were quickly gone and she stood up next to the table, trying to make sense of all Charlotte’s papers despite being unable to read them. Oliver, on the other hand, stayed curled close to Freddie’s chest, feeling warm and safe there.

 

“Can I go first?” Talulah asked hopefully.

 

Charlotte smiled widely at her; maybe seeing his sister go first would make Oliver a little more confident. “Of course you can, sweetheart. How do you feeling about living here with Jim and Freddie?”

 

“I like it here.” She said boldly. “I want to stay here forever and ever and ever.”

 

“Me too.” Oliver mumbled into Freddie’s chest.

 

“What’s your favourite thing about living here?” Charlotte asked her curiously.

 

“Pop always wakes me up with a kiss!” She smiled widely.

 

Charlotte grinned over at Jim, who was blushing ever so slightly. “And what’s your least favourite thing?”

 

Talulah had to pause for a long moment to think. “I didn’t like it when Daddy was poorly.” She said. “But I made it better with a kiss! Kisses are magic.” She said earnestly.

 

“Can Lulah stay forever?” Oliver asked, finally uncurling a little to engage with the conversation. “Lulah’s my home-friend and I want her to stay forever and ever.”

 

“I hope so.” Charlotte smiled over at him. “What about you, Oliver? What’s your favourite thing about living here?”

 

The little boy beamed up at Freddie. “Baba speaks special to me.”

 

Charlotte looked over at Freddie, a little confused, and he laughed softly. “I discovered that my little man can speak Persian.” He told her. “So we’ve been practicing together. It’s our special secret language.”

 

She laughed then, looking at the two of them. They were so close that sometimes it baffled her that they weren’t biologically related. “And what’s your least favourite thing, Oliver?”

 

“Baba brushes my hair.” He pouted. “But if I sit still I get a biscuit.”

 

Freddie laughed then and pulled him closer as Talulah climbed up into Jim’s lap, settling herself down comfortably. “Love you, Pop.” She mumbled tiredly.

 

“Love you too, Lulah.” He smiled, pulling a blanket up around her shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has she left the panic attack deliberately vague? Who knows?  
> If you're interested in what he's dancing in class, it's Steve Mcrae (crazy leggings) in this: https://youtu.be/OCkhHitkhIM?t=1363 (should be linked about 23 mins in)


	7. Dehydration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER IS COMPLETELY OPTIONAL  
> It regards Freddie's life when he first met Jim at 18, when he was being badly psychologically and physically abused.  
> It details graphic references to starvation, controlled eating, vomiting and has the potential to be triggering.  
> You don't have to read it to understand what happens later; it does connect to a plot point coming later (though I promise Incandescent is mostly fluffy!) as it relates to the relationship with Talulah and her past experiences.

_ The worst thing about starvation was the sickness. Freddie could bear the numbness, the tiredness, the coldness; he could deal with paper-thin skin that bruised easily. As winter crept on, he had no reason not to be shivering, not to be wearing thick jumpers, sleeping as soon as the sun fell behind the horizon. The numbness, in some ways, was comforting; it drowned out every other pain, every other worry. He was so numb that he couldn’t feel anything, couldn’t focus on the bruises, couldn’t focus on the tears and the fears that threatened every part of his life. _

 

_ He couldn’t deal with the sickness. _

 

_ All at once, the security of starvation would fall away; he had to face everything all at once, had to admit defeat to the crushing, aching emptiness of his stomach, had to admit defeat to his shaky hands and weak legs and oh-so-heavy eyelids.  _

 

_ His cheeks were flaming as he leaned over and was sick again, forehead pressed to the cold porcelain of the bathtub. He couldn’t believe that he was here, in the middle of the night, only the third time that Jim had invited him into his house, trying not to make a mess. _

 

_ Bile and stomach acid tore at the back of his throat and he tried to sip a little water, hands shaking badly. He breathed slowly for a second, forcing himself to calm down, to keep down the little that he’d taken from the tap. _

 

_ His whole body convulsed and he sobbed as he retched; he wanted somebody to hit him for making a mess, to distract him and make the world go fuzzy around the edges and maybe even knock him out so he could finally get some rest. _

 

_ He hadn’t eaten in three days, and he hurt so badly. _

 

_ It wasn’t like he didn’t want to- he was used to taking everything he was offered, snack bars and energy drinks and whatever Paul told him to cook. But this time he was angry, and he didn’t want Freddie to eat, so Freddie didn’t eat. _

 

_ He didn’t have any money to buy anything. Paul took his paycheck, and then gave him an allowance from it; as the money had stopped, he’d tried to be more and more frugal, saving it for smaller and smaller lunches as his breakfasts and dinners had been taken away.  _

 

_ Money didn’t last forever. _

 

_ He curled in on himself, frail arms wrapped tightly around his stomach as though he could cheat it into thinking it was full. It wasn’t Jim’s fault that he was feeling like this; he would never ask for food, only ever accepting what he was given, and he’d met up with him long after dinner time. There was no logical reason to assume he’d be hungry. _

 

_ In the few hours he’d been here, he’d been offered one glass of water, a cup of tea and a cup of coffee, and he’d taken all three, taken something in the hope that it would stop the gnawing pain. He could’ve had that cold water until he ran out of room in his stomach; it made him shiver, fiercely intense in a body so dehydrated, but it took up space in his sad stomach. _

 

_ Paul liked to push him, to see how long he could go before he started losing the world, before he saw things that weren’t there and started passing out. The more ballet, the less water, was worth merit in his eyes. _

 

_ “Freddie?” _

 

_ He wasn’t even aware of how badly he was sobbing, his whole body shaking, though he cried no tears. _

 

_ “Freddie, sweetheart-” Jim wrapped a blanket around his shoulders; he was icy cold. “Darling, are you poorly?” _

 

_ He felt guilty, so guilty, for waking Jim up during the night; he pressed his fist hard into his stomach, fist clenched so hard his knuckles turned white, trying to stop the ache. “I’m fine-” He insisted, freezing as another wave of nausea hit him. _

 

_ “You don’t look fine to me.” Jim rubbed circles on his back as Freddie lurched forward and was sick again, sobbing with the pain of it. He grabbed a water bottle from the counter and opened it for him. “Come on, darling, try to take a sip.” _

 

_ He shook his head furiously and his world span. He didn’t want to be offered things from pity. “I can’t.” He whimpered, tucking his knees up to his chest tightly.  _

 

_ “You can, sweetheart. We just have to go really slowly.” He said softly; he was glad that Freddie was with him that night, that he wasn’t struggling alone. _

 

_ If Freddie had been coherent before, he completely broke down, hands desperately trying to muffle frightened sobs. He was scared of the repercussions, of what would happen when Paul realised that he was cheating the rules of the game, that he was letting himself lose to the pain. _

 

_ “Freddie, darling-” Jim said softly and pulled him into a hug. Freddie cried harder; he wasn’t used to be treated so gently. He wanted familiarity, wanted a hand pulling out his hair and knocking him out against the counter as punishment for being so disgusting. “Sweetheart, what is it? What hurts? What happened?” He asked quietly. Maybe there was more here than he’d anticipated. _

 

_ Freddie looked up at him, the worst mixture of desperate and exhausted that Jim had ever seen. He bit down on his thumb, trying to shock himself back to normality, but even the small movement made him salivate. _

 

_ “I’m so-” He started, but he couldn’t finish the sentence, terror seizing his throat. _

 

_ “Tell me, sweetness.” Jim said softly, brushing his hair from his face. “It’s okay, darling, you can tell me anything.” _

 

_ It took a long moment of Freddie gradually calming in his arms; Jim had never felt such achievement before. _

 

_ “I’m so hungry.” Freddie whispered, and Jim wrapped the blanket around him tighter. _

 

_ They started slowly, just yogurt and a little fruit, but Freddie went to sleep that night without the incessant ache in his stomach. _


	8. Domestic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple, and fathers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is beginning to end domestic fluff (avoid the first few paragraphs if you're avoiding sexual content it's not too graphic but still)

Freddie’s smile was happy, warm and sated, as he lay back among the bedsheets and closed his eyes. Days like this were the best, when they had matching days off and got the chance to be a couple for a few hours before they went to pick up the children.

 

Jim whistled as he walked back into the bedroom; the sight of his husband laid out naked and gorgeous never failed to strike a chord of adoration and arousal through his heart. The sight in front of him was entirely his doing, made better by the promises that had been hastily whispered in ears whenever they had a moment alone.

 

When Freddie was on top, it was quick, fast, rough, satisfying an itch that they both had to scratch. It was red lines painted on shoulder blades by blunt nails, bite marks and soft grunts, incessantly chasing each other to satisfaction. It was just how Jim liked it; he liked to tease, but he didn’t like to be teased. He wanted more, faster, harder, rougher, and Freddie played him so beautifully.

 

When Jim was on top, it was long and slow, drawing it out to make them both feel as good as possible. It was days like today, drawing it out to gasps and pleads and whimpers and broken moans. It was a slick hand around Freddie’s cock, challenging him to let go and enjoy himself, light touches and relaxed thighs turning to desperately pushing hips up in a bid for more. It was one finger, two, three; if he’d kept it quiet before, it started to get louder, beautiful little moans with each breath. If he was lucky, it was a toy; he was losing his mind, fists bunching in the covers and crying out with any touch of his sweet spot. It was tightening like a vice as he came just from the foreplay, whole body shuddering and shaking; it was being played with when he was all sensitive and blissed out before finally, finally being fucked. 

 

Freddie’s hands were still trembling as he leaned up for a kiss, wrapping one arm around his husband’s neck. He whimpered as the cloth dragged over his sensitive skin, so sensitive, but so soothing and warm; he laughed a second later, almost a little delusional from the pleasure.

 

“How are you doing down there?” Jim teased, throwing the cloth in the laundry hamper at the end of the bed. The question was a force of habit, something he was so used to asking after sex, that it had almost become a joke between them. It had taken them a long time to get to this point, though, and a little part of Jim still liked to check he was okay. It had taken a few misunderstandings, some serious conversations, red lines drawn in the sand-  _ no tying up, no pain, no sensory deprivation. _

 

“I’m so good.” Freddie stretched out and let the silk stroke across his heated skin. “That was incredible.”

 

“I thought I lost you about halfway through.” Jim chuckled and lay down next to him, pulling him close. 

 

Freddie leaned up and kissed him softly. “I was there the whole time.” He promised, almost purring when a safe arm was wrapped around his waist. “You know, it’s the only thing I don’t like about having kids.”

 

“It’s only because your sex drive is higher than everyone else’s in the whole world.” Jim said playfully and kissed his head. 

 

“Hey!” Freddie giggled. “I spent years being frightened of my own body and you taught me how to feel good about myself. It’s a celebration.” He insisted.

 

“A celebration.” Jim repeated with a smile. “I like that. I’m so proud of how far you’ve come.”

 

Freddie’s cheeks pinkened; though he didn’t blush as often as he used to, he was still learning to accept compliments. “I’m so proud of how strong you are to help me.” He replied sweetly. “If anyone deserves credit then it’s you, darling. You manage to look after three.”

 

Jim smiled and pulled him closer until Freddie was practically laying on top of him. “You know I love looking after people.” He said shyly. “I find helping your problems satisfying. Like the other day, you went from sick and in pain to happy again because you let me help you; I love seeing that change. It makes me feel proud of myself.”

 

Freddie kissed him softly. “You’re the sweetest man alive.”

 

“I love having kids.” He tucked Freddie’s hair back from his face. It was currently a mess, so overgrown, but he wouldn’t let Jim touch it; he was growing it for the Mad Hatter. “And I love our kids especially. I love knowing that we’ve given Oliver stability and love that he never felt before, and that Talulah is now safe and isn’t being hurt anymore. I’m not going to change the world, darling, but I’ve changed their worlds, and that’s enough for me. Everyone deserves a good start to life.”

 

Freddie lay down comfortably. He couldn’t deny that in the past few years, he’d managed to heal dramatically: he’d gone from regular panic attacks, five to ten times a week, down to one or two a month; he’d managed to heal his fears over sex, and learned to enjoy himself; the daily nightmares now only came back if he was especially stressed or upset. “Do you think we’ll be together forever?” He asked quietly.

 

Jim kissed the top of his head. “I hope so.” He replied. “I can’t really imagine a future without you. Even when I imagine work, you’re on the stage. When I imagine more kids, I can always see them dancing or drawing with you. When I imagine family gatherings, you’re always under my arm and charming everybody within seconds of meeting them.”

 

Freddie smiled widely. “I sometimes wonder what I would’ve become if I hadn’t met you that night in Heaven. If I’d left Paul, but been on my own. I could’ve fallen into anyone’s hands. I could’ve had to sell myself for the sake of a hotel room.” He closed his eyes happily. “But instead I met my future husband. If you’d told that little Freddie that he’d be married at twenty-five and a father at twenty-six, he would’ve thought you were insane.”

 

Jim laughed. “If you’d told twenty-three-year-old Jim that one day someone would love him enough to have children with him, he would’ve thought you were insane.” He replied. “He thought he was going to be trapped in a cycle of one night stands forever. He thought that gay men didn’t really want to settle down into a traditional family life.”

 

“We’re anything but traditional.” Freddie replied with a laugh. “A gay Persian principal dancer and a gay Irish pianist, with an Iranian son and an English daughter?”

 

“Oliver could very easily be your biological son.” Jim chuckled. “Honestly, if you’d ever made love to a woman then I would’ve been almost concerned that you were getting your own child back.”

 

“No chance.” Freddie teased and sat up beside him. “I think you’re Talulah’s hero. I don’t think she’s ever felt so safe with anyone in the whole world.”

 

Jim smiled and propped himself up on one elbow as Freddie reached for the drawer in the bedside table. “All the more in common with you, then.”

 

Freddie blushed and threw a bashful smile over his shoulder. “Darling, I- I bought you a little something.” He said shyly.

 

“Oh?” Jim smiled widely. “Can I see?”

 

He produced a little ring box from the cabinet, cheeks suffused with the most gorgeous champagne blush. “It never felt right that I had three and you had two.” He said shyly. 

 

“Oh, Freddie!” Jim grinned but Freddie pressed a finger to his lips playfully.

 

“I wanted to buy you something to recognise the huge difference you’ve made to my life, darling. Without you, I wouldn’t have a family, I wouldn’t have the most gorgeous people to come home to when I’m all tired out from a show. Without you, I wouldn’t push myself to go farther and farther in my career, because I’d still be that scared little nineteen-year-old at heart. Without you, I wouldn’t have anyone to love.” He said softly.

 

He opened the box to show a rather simple ring, but so incredibly suited to Jim’s taste; a gold band studded with diamonds the whole way around. Jim leaned forward to kiss him, and Freddie kissed back, laughing a little. “The ring is supposed to represent the circle of life, so it comes after children.” He explained. “And I hope when you look at it, it reminds you of my promise to love you forever and ever.”

 

It stacked so beautifully with his wedding ring, and Jim could tell that Freddie must’ve spent months looking for the right one. “It’s beautiful, Freddie.” He said softly. “Oh, darling, I love you so much.”

 

Freddie kissed him softly, slowly. “I love you, too.” He smiled. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

The house was eerily quiet as Jim walked inside; they were back into their usual routine again, meaning that Freddie had been out of the door by five that morning. Talulah had been sceptical when Jim had explained why to her, but she’d quickly brightened up when he promised that Daddy would be there to pick her up from Mary that day.

 

They had already started looking at nurseries for Talulah, but they were holding out until they knew she was definitely theirs. 

 

He toed off his shoes by the door - Freddie hated footprints on the white carpet - and went into the kitchen; the dirty dishes from dinner were neatly stacked by the sink for the washing up that evening. Usually, by this time, Freddie would be winding down for bed himself; he’d find him taking a shower, drinking tea or playing with the children, depending on everybody’s moods.

 

He flicked the kettle on and got out his favourite two mugs automatically; Freddie and he had matching ones, Freddie’s having ‘daddy’ written in baby blue lettering and Jim’s saying ‘pop’ in black. He got out two teabags, one regular and one chamomile- Freddie was like a child, in some ways, and enjoyed the routine of a certain drink before bed.

 

He trained his ear and could make out little muffled voices coming from the lounge, but he was unable to distinguish how many people were there, or why it was so quiet. He made up the mugs and wandered into the lounge, smiling with delight when he saw a fort made with the dining chairs and the cushions from the sofa, as well as blankets from all the beds, and when he heard Freddie’s voice. He was doing storytime.

 

“What does the bear say?” He asked Oliver, kissing his forehead; he had a child under each arm as they lay, cuddled together. Freddie was still wearing his leg warmers, betraying to Jim how busy their evening had been together; his feet stuck out of the fort and he watched as he rhythmically pointed and relaxed his toes.

 

Oliver roared and Talulah burst out giggling, hiding behind Freddie. “Daddy, he’s scary!” She giggled.

 

“That’s because he’s a big, strong bear.” Freddie smiled. “And he’s got one shiny wet nose!” He tapped Oliver’s nose. “Two big furry ears!” A tap on the top of each ear; Oliver started giggling. “Two big goggly eyes!” Oliver closed his eyes with a grin and Freddie ever-so-carefully tapped each eyelid.

 

“IT’S A BEAR!” They all shouted at the same time; Jim was impressed by how seamlessly Freddie fit the story into their conversation. He set the drinks down on the coffee table and then opened the door to their fort, roaring playfully.

 

Talulah squealed. “Pop!” She said excitedly, jumping into his lap and throwing her arms around his neck. He chuckled and held her closely as he sat next to Freddie, dropping a kiss on Oliver’s head as the little boy beamed at him. 

 

“Now we’ve got a real bear!” Freddie winked at Jim, recognising the underlying connotations of his words, and continued. “Now, we have to team up. Lulah, who are you going with?”

 

“I’m going with Pop!” She said, almost vibrating with excitement. She’d never played a story like this before.

 

“Bear?” Freddie kissed his head. “Is that okay?”

 

Oliver climbed into his lap and wrapped his little arms around Freddie’s neck. “Baba!” He said excitedly.

 

He must’ve told Bear the story a hundred times, so many times that he’d memorised it, but it was Oliver’s favourite and he could never say no. He spoke in a low, rhythmic voice, smiling whenever Jim helped him with the sound effects.

 

“Get to our front door!” Freddie started, and Talulah squealed.

 

“Pop!” She giggled as both men ran to the front door, children in arms. 

 

“Up the stairs!” Talulah laughed as she clung onto Jim, Oliver’s eyes alive with excitement.

 

“Oh no!” Freddie said theatrically; Oliver squealed with delight. This was his favourite part. “We forgot to shut the door! Back downstairs-” They dashed. “Back upstairs-” Both children were placed down on the floor.

 

Talulah looked for Oliver’s lead on what to do next; he was ready to run, so she was too. “Into the bedroom!” Freddie laughed as they went dashing into their shared room. “Into the bed! Under the covers!”

 

Freddie walked into the room and laughed; Talulah peeked out from under the covers while Oliver was completely buried, his blanket all crumpled. “I’m never going on a bear hunt again!” He laughed, pretending to be out of breath, and wiped his forehead. 

 

Oliver started giggling and poked his head up from under the covers. “Baba?” He asked hopefully, extending his little arms. Freddie smiled and sat on his bed, pulling the little boy close and pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

 

“Are you sleepy now, darling?” Freddie asked and he nodded, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. “Shall I tuck you in?”

 

He nodded and Freddie pressed one more kiss to his head before laying him down gently, pulling the covers over his shoulders and smoothing them out by his feet. “Dewsett darem, baba.” He said in a little voice.

 

Freddie knelt beside the bed and smiled, picking his comfort blanket up from the floor and tucking it in beside him. “Men hem shema ra dewset darem, moosh-am.” He whispered.

 

He flicked the nightlight on quickly and looked over at Talulah, whose energy had crashed after all the excitement. Jim was cradling her, sending her to sleep quickly.

 

Jim had a magic touch that Freddie hadn’t quite mastered; he could put her down when she’d fallen asleep without waking her up. She rested her head on his collarbone, already mostly asleep, and Freddie pressed a kiss to the forehead. “Goodnight, sweetness.” He said softly.

 

She made a soft noise of recognition, but she was quickly fast asleep. Jim laid her down in the crib and tucked a soft blanket over her, making sure she had Snowball right beside her; she snuggled into the toy and settled for the night.

 

Jim quickly kissed Oliver before they gently shut the bedroom door; Freddie’s cheeks were pink with happiness, and Jim couldn’t help but kiss him there and then. “Is Daddy tired, too?” He teased with a fond smile.

 

Freddie relaxed into his arms and closed his tired eyes. “Really am.” He chuckled and rubbed a hand over his face. “First full day back.”

 

“I made you chamomile tea.” Jim said softly and Freddie smiled widely.

 

“That sounds perfect, my darling.”

 

And maybe Jim didn’t mention the years of practice he’d had with that skill, but when Freddie fell asleep on him on the sofa, he managed to pick him and get him to bed without so much as rocking him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you know the story he's reading the children I love you


	9. Essence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He'd promised to talk, after all.

He stepped through the doorway to be met with two excited children; the sight never failed to make him smile. He’d always been a little jealous that Freddie got more time in the evening with them, but Freddie had always let him do bedtime stories and bath time whenever he was home so that they got equal time with Daddy and with Pop. He dropped down onto his knees and hugged them both happily, kissing each little forehead in turn. He went to speak, but he was immediately met with a loud-

 

“Shush!” Talulah pressed a little finger to his lips. “Daddy’s asleep!”

 

“Asleep?” Jim whispered with a smile. It was only a little after five, an earlier finish than a lot of his six o’clock days; Freddie was still adjusting to four in the morning starts, and so he was trying to be home as much as he could to help out in the evenings. He couldn’t deny, though, that he also wanted as much time with Talulah as possible, just in case she went to another family.

 

Oliver nodded and smiled. “We had cuddles and Daddy fell asleep.” He told Jim.

 

Jim laughed then and went into the kitchen. “Have you had dinner?” He checked with them, flicking the kettle on for himself and refilling their cups.

 

They nodded happily, giggling when Jim gave them a biscuit each from the tin. He quickly made the usual teas and then went into the lounge to see if the children were right.

 

Sometimes, he felt the essence of Freddie in the house even when he wasn’t there. They’d bought it two years ago now, an upgrade from their one-bedroom penthouse they had beforehand: Freddie had wanted the opportunity to make it a home before they had children. It was an artist’s house, noticeable from the second you step foot through the door: white walls, white carpets and wooden floorboards, art and mirrors hung on spare spaces of wall.

 

He still couldn’t believe how much space they had. The lounge alone was the size of nearly their entire old flat, with so much space for the children to play. As he walked in, he took it in again as though it were all new to him: the large sofa in the middle, the sideboard along the back wall, cabinets to hold toys and the ridiculous, huge snuggle chair that Freddie had insisted they bought.

 

The chair didn’t go with anything else in the house, really, but it was one of Freddie’s favourite things in the whole world. It was big enough for the both of them, though Freddie often ended up lounging in his lap- more through Jim pulling him closer and closer than due to a lack of room. It was possibly the softest, comfiest thing ever.

 

It was exactly where Freddie was fast asleep now.

 

He looked so peaceful curled up among the cushions, enjoying the last of the evening sunshine as it streamed through the large windows, painting the whole room in gold. His hair hung in his face, and it took a moment for Jim to realise that he had Oliver’s blanket tucked under one arm.

 

“Do you want your blanket back, Bear?” He asked softly, sitting where the children were drawing.

 

Oliver shook his head and smiled. “I gave it to him.” He said proudly. “Daddy gives it to me to help me sleep, so now it helps Daddy sleep.”

 

The image of their children realising that Freddie was asleep and giving him their toys as a makeshift tucking in was possibly the sweetest thing Jim had ever imagined.

 

_“Daddy?” Talulah asked softly, climbing down from his lap to look at his face. “Daddy?”_

 

_“Daddy’s asleep!” Oliver whispered excitedly. “Daddy’s all sleepy.”_

 

_Talulah frowned and looked over at Snowball on the sofa. “Does Daddy need a blankie?” She asked Oliver._

 

_Oliver stopped and thought for a moment. “Daddy can have my blanket.” He said, carefully resting it between Freddie’s cheek and the cushion, the same place as he liked to have it._

 

_Talulah smiled and hugged Oliver tightly. “Now Daddy can sleep.” She nodded._

 

“Will Daddy like this?” Talulah asked Jim, sitting in his lap and showing him a colouring page she’d done for Freddie. After watching Freddie’s class, she’d incessantly begged for a ballet colouring book; he’d managed to find her one that wasn’t horrendously stereotypical pictures of little girls in tutus.

 

The page was a male dancer, halfway through a grand jeté; Talulah had diligently coloured the hair in long and pink, the same way as she’d seen Freddie’s the day before when he’d come to pick her up from Mary.

 

_“Mad Hatter?” Mary teased, handing over Talulah’s bag. “The pink suits you, you know.”_

 

_It only occurred to him then that he still had the full stage makeup on, dramatically painted eyebrows and cheekbones and dark eyes; they’d been trying out looks in costume today._

 

_“I didn’t have a chance to shower.” Freddie blushed a little. “Rehearsals literally finished ten minutes ago and I can’t be late for Bear again.”_

 

_“You won’t get any strange looks at all at nursery.” Mary laughed. “Your children are going to be permanently scarred.”_

 

_“Daddy!” Talulah called when she heard his voice, running to the front door. When she saw his hair, she froze for a moment, before she starting giggling. “You’re pink!”_

 

_Freddie laughed and picked her up, settling her on his hip. Her little fingers excitedly tugged at his hair, trying to see if it was real. “Lulah!” Freddie laughed and swatted her little hands away. “Ouch!”_

 

_She giggled and blew him a kiss. “Why are you pink, Daddy?”_

 

_“One of the ladies at work painted my hair pink.” He chuckled. “And I need to wash it out.” He said a quick thank you to Mary and they started the walk to Oliver’s nursery._

 

_Talulah pouted. “Can you be pink forever?” She asked hopefully._

 

_“Not forever, sweetness.” Freddie chuckled. “Do you think Pop would like it if I was pink?”_

 

_She nodded, completely determined, and he kissed her head with a laugh._

 

Jim had been in rehearsals with him the day before, the first day back with his tap shoes on, and he was forever enthralled by the talent that could remember those steps after three years. He’d messed up his music more than a few times, more lost in the rhythm of the shoes than the rhythm he was meant to be playing to.

 

“I think he’ll love it, darling.” He promised her. “We can put it up in a frame and put it up in the hallway.”

 

Her little face lit up with magic. “Really?” She asked hopefully.

 

“I’m sure we can.” He smiled.

 

Across the room, Freddie stretched out in the chair and then curled up again. Jim was amazed by how well he knew his body language: he was getting cold. He stood up and quickly took a big blanket from the basket in the corner, laying it carefully over him, trying his best not to disturb him.

 

“Why is Daddy tired?” Oliver came over to ask Jim. “It’s play time.”

 

Jim smiled and picked him up, sitting on the sofa with him. “Daddy works very, very hard.” He explained. “And Daddy gets up really super early in the morning, before the sun comes up, to go to work. It means that he sometimes starts to feel sleepy before us, because he’s been awake for so long.”

 

“Before the sun comes up?” Oliver repeated, resting his head on Jim’s chest.

 

“A long time before the sun.” He smiled. “And then he dances for nearly ten hours before he comes to pick you up from nursery.”

 

He’d spoken to Freddie a thousand times about maybe slowing down, taking fewer shows, bigger gaps in his day, but Freddie wouldn’t have any of it. He had four different performances and a showcase coming up; although he’d chosen his performances more selectively now than ever before, they’d all ended up squashed at the end of the season. This had been better for his injury, giving him less to stress about, but it meant there’d be a month where he was positively run off of his feet.

 

He’d been simply desperate to reprise his role in Within the Golden Hour- he hadn’t had the opportunity to dance en pointe on stage for a long time, and he missed it. He’d promised to showcase Farewell, being coaxed by desperate pleas of _you’re the only one that can move like that._ He could never resist the Mad Hatter when he came back around, nor could he Prince Florimund.

 

Jim made dinner for him and Freddie with the help of the children, earlier than they usually ate - that was usually a job for when the children were asleep - but he wanted to wake Freddie for a purpose, at least, and so that he could then coax him into helping with bath time. It was always quicker when they worked as a team.

 

When he walked back into the lounge, Freddie looked so peaceful that he almost relented. He walked over quietly and ran a hand through his hair; he could still see hints of pink at the ends, and it made him smile. He planted a gentle kiss on Freddie’s forehead, smiling as the man below him started to stretch out, cracking one eye open slowly. “Evening, sleeping beauty.” He teased. “Dinner’s ready.”

 

“Darling-” Freddie’s voice was rough with sleep and he smiled, rubbing his eyes quickly. “Oh, what time is it? Are the kids okay?”

 

“It’s just gone six.” He said softly. “The kids told me I wasn’t allowed to wake you unless I had food.”

 

Freddie laughed and moved to sit up, stopping when he felt the softness of Oliver’s blanket against his cheek. He picked it up and sat up, tucking his legs underneath him. “Did Bear lose his blanket? You could’ve taken it off of me.” He gave Jim a sleepy smile.

 

“Bear gave it to you.” He smiled. “Because he can’t sleep without his blanket, so he thought it would help you sleep too.” He leaned forward and kissed Freddie softly, tasting coffee on his lips. Freddie smiled and cupped Jim’s cheek, rings pressing lightly against his skin, languid and lazy.

 

“It’s a good job you’ve made dinner, I’m starving.” Freddie chuckled. “Where are the kids now?”

 

Two little faces were hidden behind the doorway; they’d insisted that Jim had to send them a signal for when they could go in. They didn’t want to accidentally wake him up. No sooner had he waved to them than Freddie had two children in his lap, covering him in love and kisses. “That answers my question.” He chuckled. “Darlings, you’re allowed to wake me up if I fall asleep accidentally.” He told them gently. “I don’t mind.”

 

Oliver shook his head adamantly. “Pop says that you work very, very hard.” He echoed Jim earlier and Jim blushed a little. “And that you get up before the sun! And that you dance for ten hours before you come for me and Lulah.”

 

Freddie smiled. “That’s true, sweetheart.” He said softly. “But you can still wake me up. I’m being lazy.”

 

Jim shot him a slightly reproachful look: Freddie was one of the hardest working people he knew, and yet he thought he was lazy for taking a nap after a hard day. There were still elements of his self-talk that they were working on, and Freddie struggled with the idea that he was allowed to slow down and not do everything.

 

“Do you want to finish off your drawing while Daddy and I have dinner?” He offered the children and they nodded.

 

“Daddy can’t see!” Talulah insisted.

 

Freddie chuckled in response. “We’ll go into the kitchen, darling, don’t worry.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you sleeping okay at the moment?” Jim asked quietly, wrapping an arm around Freddie’s waist as they walked into the kitchen. “You do seem more tired than usual.”

 

“Not really.” Freddie replied with a sad little smile. “He sent me another letter. I know he does it just to get inside my head, but I can’t stop thinking about, and then I hate that I’m thinking about it because I’m playing right into his hands.”

 

Jim sighed and kissed his head. “You need to get them to throw them away before you find out.” He said quietly. “Anything with a stamp from HMP Wakefield goes straight in the bin.”

 

“I know.” He sat down at the breakfast bar. “He’s just down the corridor from a serial killer, and it’s not looking good for him because he’s practically got ‘child sex offender’ written across his forehead.”

 

“Darling-” Jim sat beside him. “You have no idea if that’s true. He could be saying anything because he knows you’re a lovely person that worries too much about other people.”

 

“He just seemed so desperate.” Freddie rubbed his eyes quickly. “He was begging me to tell him I love him. That he didn’t make up that I loved him while I lived with him. He keeps begging me to tell him that it wasn’t a waste, that I really did love him despite everything.” He sighed. “And the thing is that I did. I don’t anymore, but I really did, because to me he was safety and security. And I hate that I did.”

 

“You were a child, Freddie. You were seventeen. You couldn’t even give consent for all those things at first.” He said quietly. “You were a young seventeen, at that, because of your father. You looked for people you could depend on, and he manipulated that.”

 

“It’s just so harrowing.” Freddie sighed. “And it’s like a weird form of self-destruction. Every single time I tell myself that I won’t read this one, I’ll go home and throw it straight in the bin. But every single time I read them, even though I know they’ll trigger me.”

 

“Have you ever replied to them?” Jim asked carefully.

 

“Only once.” Freddie looked down, ashamed. “It was when you were in hospital with that awful infection and the doctors made me think you were about to die. I was so vulnerable.” He said quietly. “And he sent me a letter telling me that the doctors said he might die soon and he was begging for my forgiveness and so I sent him a letter to say I forgave him because I didn’t want it on my conscience.” He admitted. “And I was by your bedside every day and I told you all about the children we’d have and the pets we’d have and how I’d decorate our future family home but I didn’t know if you’d ever wake up. So I started thinking, if Jim doesn’t own me, who does?” He saw the disapproval in Jim’s look and the frantic nature of his speech sped up. “That was how I used to think. And to me, if I couldn’t have you, then I’d have to go back to him. At least he wanted me. I thought that maybe I could drop the case and he could come and live with me.”

 

It was the one thing Freddie had never opened up about; those awful three weeks when his whole world fell down around him. “Darling-” Jim started, one arm tight around his waist, but Freddie couldn’t seem to stop talking.

 

“I never told him I was still with you.” He tried to justify himself. “He thinks I’m single. He sends me these long love letters telling me all about the life we’ll have together. He tells me that he’s sure I’ll make an amazing principal one day, that he’s sure I’ll move through the ranks at the Royal quickly. He tells me all about the ring he’ll buy me one day. He wants to take me to Paris for our honeymoon. He’s already named our children.”

 

He swallowed hard; his hands started to tremble. “He promised not to hurt me in front of the children.” He said quietly. “And sometimes it all gets mixed up in my head and I start thinking that you’ll hit me when I come downstairs from saying goodnight even though that’s illogical and you’ve never hurt me. I stay upstairs for as long as I can manage and I try to be so nice to you in the evenings even when I’m tired and frightened because I’m still scared of him, and he becomes you in my head. He’s still winning.”

 

Jim pulled him into a hug and closed his eyes momentarily. “He’s not winning, darling. He’s a sad middle-aged man in prison desperately trying to manipulate you into feeling sorry for him. You’re a successful dancer with a family that loves you so much.” He took Freddie’s hand and squeezed it gently. “I know it’s hard to let him go, and you’ll probably never manage to completely, but he doesn’t have to control you.”

 

Freddie sighed; he looked so unbelievably tired as he leaned on the counter. “Every time I see that envelope in that handwriting, with _Freddie Mercury, The Royal Ballet, The Royal Opera House_ written on it, I just know that it’s going to be a bad night.”

 

“How often does he send them?” Jim asked quietly.

 

“Once a week, sometimes two or three times. Every Thursday I’ve got a letter, at least. I’ve had one every day this week.” His lower lip trembled a little. “And they’re getting so desperate, and I want him to leave me alone!”

 

“Okay, darling, okay-” Jim pulled him back in and kissed the top of his head. “We’ll speak to the communications department. We’ll get them to blacklist mail from that address.” He promised. He was so good at picking up on the moment before an attack now, the moment before it was too late to calm down. Freddie softened in his arms. “You need to tell me when things start getting mixed up. We can work through it together.”

 

“I feel so guilty.” Freddie whispered. “Because I feel like I ruined his life. When we lived together, he was so happy, and then I got him thrown in prison. I feel like it’s my job to make him feel better.”

 

“You have nothing to feel guilty for.” Jim promised. “He ruined his own life when he decided to sexually assault you. You played no part in that decision, Freddie.”

 

“I used to think-” Freddie was calmer now, but the words kept coming. “I used to think I’d ruined your life. When you were in hospital, I thought I’d killed you. I thought you hated me so much because I’d made your life a misery. And it felt like the right punishment that I should give myself up to him in turn.” He explained. “Like if somehow his happiness could outweigh your misery.”

 

Jim pushed his hair back from his face. “Freddie Hutton.” He said softly, cupping his cheek and tilting his head upwards. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever done in my whole life. You’re the best decision I’ve ever made.” He said seriously. “You’re one of the most incredible people in the whole world, and I consider it a privilege to call you my husband.”

 

One time, they’d gotten drunk together, and when Freddie had collapsed into giggles in his lap he’d insisted that Freddie’s cheeks were stained with a champagne blush. The colour seemed to suit him so well, childishly adult-like, baby pink and yet more sophisticated.

 

A thousand times in the last week alone, Jim had joked about having three children, about tucking three children in at night, turning night lights on; the difference was that he was Freddie’s teddy bear.

 

There was nothing he’d rather be.

 

“I love you so much.” Jim promised, dropping a kiss on each cheek in turn. “And nothing that fucking dick says is going to change any of that. He can have stripped you naked a thousand times in his dirty little perverted mind for all I care, because he’s going to rot for the rest of his waking life with people beating the shit out of him for assaulting a minor.”

 

Freddie smiled a little then. “You really think so?” He asked hopefully, big eyes looking up at Jim as though he were the only important thing in the whole world. It was the exact same look Talulah had given him when he’d explained the magic of kisses.

 

“I know so.” Jim promised. “People are disgusted by him. You saw the headlines, darling. Everyone sees him as a perverted middle-aged man that used his position of power to exploit vulnerable boys and girls. He doesn’t even deserve to be able to send you letters.”

 

Freddie leaned up to kiss him gently; the touch always grounded him to where he was. “I love you.” He echoed softly. Jim could see some hint of relief on his face and smiled. This was why he’d wanted Freddie to talk it through; they’d hopefully avoid nightmares and a panic attack now.

 

“Your dinner’s going to get cold, darling.” Jim smiled softly. “And I think Talulah has drawn you a beautiful picture she wants to show you before bed.”

 

He rarely wore an expression of completely contented calm; Jim usually saw it when he played the violin for Freddie, or he got truly swept up in the orchestra of a performance, goosebumps dotted haphazardly over his skin.

 

Jim wondered what song the orchestra in his mind was playing as he smiled sleepily at the kitchen door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's like an inkling of the subplot here!


	10. Pliant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A letter rather left unread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's literally 0 children in this and I feel like I've cheated you I'm sorry it didn't feel right to have them in here

He sat on the bed, cross-legged, bundled up amongst the thousands of pillows that Freddie had simply insisted that they bought. He’d spotted the envelope on his bedside table- unopened, still sealed, stamped with ‘HMP Wakefield’ at the top.

 

_My darling Freddie-_

 

Jim’s skin was already crawling; he hated that he could almost hear the words.

 

_Daddy misses you so much, baby boy._

 

Even the first line was enough to trigger Freddie. He had so many problems with ‘daddy’ in and of itself: it had been the name he used to beg for forgiveness from his father, and it held long-standing connotations of abuse for him. It had taken a few weeks for him to stop stiffening whenever Oliver said it, to finally start to recognise it as a normal term of address; it had taken weeks of Jim promising him that no matter what, sharing the same name does not make you the same as your father.

 

His eyes scanned the letter; it was pages and pages, handwriting becoming progressively more scrawling, losing place and falling into tangents. He’d assumed that Freddie wasn’t telling him everything about the letters: he didn’t believe that the only thing on a sick pervert’s mind would be a family life and a career.

 

Sure enough, he was right.

 

_I miss your body so much. I know you called it rape at the trial, but you said yourself in that letter - I hope you know that I read that letter every day - that it wasn’t really rape. You said yourself that you didn’t fight back, and so it can’t be rape. Maybe some days you were less enthusiastic, maybe some days you were more tired than others, but you were always so pliant and open for me, so willing to-_

 

Jim had to stop for a moment to collect himself. He hadn’t realised the extent of forgiveness that Freddie had given him. It felt almost like they were back to the first stage, back to that stage of blaming himself for everything that had happened, denying the bad because it was easier than accepting it.

 

_I miss sex with you. I miss those days where you played the brat so well, where you’d wriggle and kick and struggle against me because you knew I loved the challenge to dominate you. I miss those days where you’d let yourself be played with in nightclubs just to rile me up. You were always crazy, wanting me to hit you until you submitted, until you rolled over with your legs and in the air and learned how to-_

 

He’d never read something so awful in his life. He remembered that first time they’d met, those bruises, his desperation to feel something, watching him be pulled away and slapped and meeting those eyes that spoke only of sadness and guilt. It was never a game for Freddie.

 

_You know, I’m so glad that you don’t genuinely think it was domestic violence. It was awful, hearing all of our little games read out and twisted by those awful lawyers that thought they were doing you a favour. Even when you retracted your statement, they still went ahead and forced you to go to court, forced you to make a fool of yourself over things that never really happened. They twisted all your words, baby boy, they made me look like a monster and you look like a child._

 

It’s because he was, Jim thought. It’s because you assaulted him before he could even give consent.

 

_I miss the way my palm used to sting when I slapped you. It was such an exhilarating feeling, don’t you think? Skin so sensitive to every touch- it used to make you whimper if I touched it when you were asleep! That feeling of air rushing back into your lungs when I played at choking you, electrifying your whole body, manipulated into abuse. It was never abuse, my darling, because I loved you so much and I still love you. Remember that ring I bought you?_

 

The case had been so difficult for Freddie; Jim had spent hours trying to talk him into staying, going into court, stopping him from hurting other people even if he wouldn’t do it for himself, but he’d still come home to find Freddie on the phone. He didn’t denounce his initial statement as lies, and that was at least something, but he’d refused to cooperate.

 

He felt like he was ruining Paul’s life, and he didn’t want to. He cared too much for the man that had spent the best part of two years grooming him and abusing him. After the assaults, the rapes, systematically undermining him in every part of his career, Freddie had felt worthless and ruined. He didn’t want to ruin someone else, too.

 

_I was thinking about our life together the other day. When I get out of this place, I’ll come and find you and we can move wherever you want to, we don’t have to stay in London - it’s a stuffy place, after all. We could move up here, you could join the Northern, or we could go somewhere more exotic like Venice or Rome or San Francisco or Berlin or Moscow. You can do anything you want to. You’ll be so successful, I won’t even need to get a job, I’ll be able to stay at home and look after the kids!_

 

_I know I’ve told you a thousand times, darling, but I do think kids would be good for us. You’ve never told me one way or the other, so I’ve always assumed you’re not that inclined to them, but I think they’d be good for us. You know I’d never hurt you in front of the children - there are things they don’t need to know about until they’re older! Besides, we could adopt some more troubled kids and help them; I’ve done such a good job with you that I think we could work wonders with them._

 

He heard the shower switch off, but he couldn’t stop reading. He understood Freddie’s unbeatable connection to them, to the life he once had, stories twisted back on themselves all over again; they were so awful that they were enthralling. It was like Jim was trying to understand just how depraved this man was.

 

_I had another dream about you. It was the first time we made love, when you came over for your audition and you were so desperate to please. It was that time I had both of your hands pinned to the bed and you fell asleep and you just looked so beautiful and so innocent that I couldn’t help myself._

 

His fingers tore the letter in two without realising it. Freddie didn’t need to read this one.

 

“Was it that bad?” Freddie asked, standing in the bedroom doorway. “I thought- I thought if I brought it home when you were around, we could throw it on the fire, get rid of it in some way, but I started having those urges to read it again.” He said quietly.

 

“It was awful.” Jim replied honestly. “Christ, Freddie, that’s either the worst one he’s sent to date or he’s been manipulating you badly for years.”

 

“What’s so bad about it?” He asked, sitting on the bed beside Jim. With his hair wet, pajamas on, he looked so young, and Jim felt how powerful Paul’s words were- he could almost see the seventeen-year-old body that he was lusting after.

 

“Just- just the things he says about you, what he wants to do to you, his fixation on your body and your powerlessness.” He said quietly. “And he’s twisted everything up again, everything we worked through, he’s blaming you for everything that happened but he does it so well that it seems like a choice.”

 

“And then he goes on to talk about a really explicit dream he’s had of raping me?” Freddie said dryly. “And he pretends that I was actually a crazy, kinky little thing that loved being held down even when I was struggling or asleep?” He sighed and took the paper from Jim’s hands, tearing it up over and over again, until the pieces were too small for him to try and assemble into coherency. “Every letter follows the same narrative.”

 

Freddie sighed. “I hate that he uses fatherhood against me. It just gives me this image, an image of me being broken and alone and trapped in a house with a baby I didn’t want. I don’t want to think about fatherhood like that.”

 

The dryness of Freddie’s words comforted him. At least he didn’t seem to believe the rape was his fault; though his opinions changed with his mood, so he could easily go from believing he was a victim to being completely convinced it was all his own fault in seconds. He watched as the snippets of paper fell into the bin, not even realising that he was relaxing. “Come here.” He said quietly, opening his arms.

 

One of Jim’s ways of coping was a physical protectiveness that Freddie never begrudged. He climbed into the bed beside him, letting himself be moved until he was curled up in Jim’s lap, head against his collar bone. “I know they’re awful, darling, I’m sorry. I thought he’d get tired and stop sending them. I didn’t want to upset you by telling you how explicit they can be.” He sighed. “It’s probably not the worst one I’ve had, you know.”

 

“Probably not.” Jim agreed, holding him closely. Here and now, when Freddie was in his arms, he could be certain he was safe. He could be certain that no one could get to him with fists, with unwanted advances or even with words that were unwelcome. “I know the court case last time didn’t exactly go to plan, sweetheart, but we can reopen proceedings. He was prosecuted for the things he did to Lucy and those other girls, and that other boy, so he can be prosecuted for what he did to you. We could get him for more now, now that he's been harassing you for years.”

 

“I know, but-” Freddie started and Jim kissed his forehead.

 

“Promise me you’ll think about it?” He said quietly.

 

Freddie faltered for a second, but he nodded. “I’ll think about it.” He acquiesced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter goes back to fluff I promise! I'm in the middle of tying up a few loose ends with this fic


	11. Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An experience they'll never forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is honest to God so messy it would not come out right so this is significantly lower quality than the rest of Incandescent and Fluorescent I apologise

Sunday mornings were far and away Freddie’s favourite time of the week. Sunday mornings, when he wasn’t working a seven day week, were times for sleeping in and waking up all pressed up against his lover; he was often the last to wake, and so Jim tugged him closer and closer before he did.

 

Jim smiled and stroked his hair gently. Freddie had a habit of curling up small in his sleep, condensing and compacting himself into a little bundle of warmth; his head was pillowed against Jim’s chest, legs tucked up against his side, warm breath fluttering across his skin with every little breath. Jim loved Sunday mornings, because he woke up to both sides of the bed warm, woke up with another face beside him, dark eyelashes on tanned cheeks and the prettiest red lips.

 

Once upon a time, he’d mapped out Freddie’s exact routine of waking. It started with a stretch - as he’s gotten older, this was often accompanied by a soft moan that momentarily made Jim think unholy thoughts - and then a flutter of those beautiful eyelashes, a deep inhalation, one eye-

 

“Daddy!” Came the cry from the doorway; Freddie jumped awake, heart racing, as two little bodies threw themselves onto the bed. “Pop!”

 

He groaned playfully and buried his head in Jim’s chest, tugging the silk sheets up and over his head. “M’sleepy.” He whined.

 

Jim laughed and hugged them both tight. “Good morning, sweetness.” He kissed Talulah’s forehead. “Good morning, Bear.” He kissed Oliver’s forehead in turn.

 

“Where did Daddy go?” Talulah asked, starting to giggle.

 

“Daddy!” Oliver crawled on top of his father, tugging at the sheets over his head. “Daddy’s here.” He told her. She joined in the tugging until Freddie’s head was finally exposed and he squinted in the morning sunshine.

 

“Play nicely.” Jim said quietly, rubbing Freddie’s back with one hand. “Daddy’s still half-asleep.”

 

Freddie eyed them playfully for a second before closing his eyes and settling back against Jim. “You’re only allowed to stay if you’re here for cuddles.”

 

And, of course, they were used to this routine- Freddie hated getting out of bed on his days off, and so they settled next to him, curling up to him and Jim with giggles and smiles. “I’ll go and make the drinks.” Jim said softly and kissed his forehead.

 

Freddie smiled sleepily. By the time Jim walked back upstairs, precariously balancing four cups on a tray, he was sat against the headboard, son in his lap and daughter tucked up to his side. Freddie smiled gratefully as Jim passed him a mug, ever-so-careful not to accidentally spill any on either child or touch them with the hot porcelain; the first sip of tea always burned his tongue, but it was his taste of Sunday, and he never complained.

 

The children took their orange juice happily and Jim carefully climbed into the bed beside them, immediately drawing Freddie closer to him as Talulah climbed into his lap. Freddie was still a little sleepy, eyes a little drooping and not yet fully alert, fully awake. He snuggled under his arm automatically, smiling to himself as he looked over his family. Nothing could take this away from him.

 

* * *

 

“Is he yours?”

 

A female voice, not one that Jim recognised. For such a warm May Sunday, they’d taken the decision to go to the beach; the children had never been before, and Freddie himself had only been rarely. They’d dragged Freddie into the water almost as soon as they’d landed on the sand, and he could still hear their laughter from where he sat, sorting out their things.

 

“Are you referring to the child or the adult?” Jim asked with a laugh; he was used to people asking him about Freddie out of the blue by now. He put Freddie’s book down on the sun lounger next to his, along with his sandals and a towel, and then looked up: a young woman, fair skinned and peroxide-blonde, sunglasses balanced precariously on the top of her head.

 

She laughed and sat on the lounger to the other side of him. “I was talking about the adult.”

 

“Freddie? Yes.” Jim smiled over at her. “Where do you know him from?”

 

“Know him?” She questioned. “Oh, I don’t know him. He’s just quite the view.”

 

Jim couldn’t deny that; he couldn’t really be wearing less unless he was completely naked. He was a vision of taut muscles and tanned skin, knelt amongst fresh waves and being splashed by the children. Sometimes it was easy to forget, when he was hidden behind white shirts and checked pajama pants and large sweaters, when he was a vision of toothpaste kisses and complaining about the leftover colour in his hair, just how crazy his physique really was. “Don’t I know it.” Jim chuckled. “He’s a ballet dancer.”

 

“I didn’t know they got so ripped.” She replied with a laugh. “I thought ballet was pretty tame.”

 

“Until you realise that he can jump five feet in the air and can lift the average woman without breaking a sweat.” He pointed out. “It sounds like you’re hitting on him.”

 

“Darling, you’re in Brighton.” She replied. “Half the people on this beach are queers, and I’m one of them.” She lit a cigarette and offered him one; though he was momentarily tempted, he’d promised Freddie no more, and so he declined.

 

He hadn’t even thought of Brighton in that way- no wonder people didn’t stare in the same way as they did in London. “Are the kids yours or his?” She asked, laying back on the lounger. “Because the little boy looks like him, but the girl looks like you.”

 

“They’re ours.” He replied. “We adopted not too long again.”

 

“Could’ve fooled me!” She laughed. “The little boy looks crazily like him. I assumed they were from a previous marriage, you guys don’t look like you’ve been together long.” She took a contemplative drag. “Although that makes a lot of sense. He doesn’t look old enough to have kids that age. How old is he? Nineteen? Twenty?”

 

Jim had to stifle a laugh. “He’s twenty-six, and we adopted three months ago.” He paused for a moment. “What do you mean we look like we haven’t been together long?”

 

“You seem like you’re in your honeymoon period. Trust me, darling, it doesn’t last that long.” She smiled. “I’d guess you’ve been together for a year?”

 

“Seven and a half.” He chuckled a Talulah ran back up towards him. She was absolutely drenched, but she had the biggest smile on her face.

 

“Pop!” She cried as she ran up to him. “Pop, Daddy taught me how to float!”

 

Jim chuckled and picked her up, sitting her on his knee. “That’s wonderful, my darling.” He said and kissed her cheek; she tasted of salt water. “You’ll have to show me in a minute.”

 

“Will you come and play?” She asked hopefully, tugging on his hand. “Please, Pop?”

 

“Go ahead.” The woman smiled next to him. “My girlfriend’s coming down in a minute, I can keep an eye on your stuff. She’s a loungy type of girl.”

 

Jim shucked off his shoes then and chuckled. “C’mon then, sweetness.” He stood up and held her hand as they ran down to the waterfront. Talulah plunged straight into the cold spray, dragging Jim with her; he squealed at the cold.

 

“Christ!” He laughed as Freddie tugged him down. “It’s fucking freezing!”

 

“Language!” Freddie scolded playfully; Jim swore like any other Irishman he’d ever met, but he’d done his best to curtail it around the children. “It gets warmer if you duck your head under.”

 

“That sounds fake.” Jim insisted, but Oliver grabbed his bucket, filled it with water and dumped it on Jim’s head, giggling incessantly. Jim screeched with the cold, but he hated that Freddie was right- the temperature started to even out, especially as the sun warmed his skin.

 

“See?” Freddie teased and kissed him lightly. “You taste all salty.”

 

Jim cupped his cheek as the children splashed them and kissed him again. “The woman I was just talking to was going crazy over your body.” He chuckled. “Apparently you’re the quite the view.”

 

“Apparently?” Freddie replied, mock-offended. “You sound like you don’t agree, darling.”

 

“I still thought you were a vision when you cut yourself shaving or that time you shaved part of your eyebrow off. I think I’m probably biased.” He teased.

 

“That was an accident!” Freddie pouted. “You swore you’d never bring that up again!”

 

It had been a very quick learning curve in makeup for the both of them, learning how to draw back on part of his eyebrow so that he didn’t look completely insane.

 

_“Fuck!” Jim heard from the bathroom; Freddie was dramatic at the best of times, but he was always curious as to what caused such outbursts._

 

_“Everything okay, darling?” He called, lounging lazily in bed still._

 

_“No.” Freddie replied, and Jim stood up, dragging a robe around himself. He walked to the bathroom door, but Freddie barricaded it shut before he could walk in. “You have to promise not to laugh.”_

 

_Even hearing that made Jim want to laugh. “I’ll try my best.” He compromised. Freddie opened the door, pouting, and Jim burst out laughing when he saw he was missing half an eyebrow._

 

_“You said you’d try!” Freddie huffed, crossing his arms, and Jim tilted his head up to inspect the damage, still chuckling to himself._

 

_“I wasn’t expecting this. How did you manage to do it?” He questioned._

 

_“I saw a spider while I was shaving.” He said shyly. “I jumped.”_

 

_Jim bit back another laugh and grabbed Freddie’s makeup bag from the counter, digging through until he found his eyeliner pen. He sat him up on the counter and carefully started to draw where he’d managed to shave._

 

_Freddie watched the way his tongue poked out a little as he concentrated, and suddenly he wanted to kiss him again. He’d seen that face many times when he’d done hair and makeup backstage before shows, twisting into elaborate mid-century designs, but it was strangely endearing to have it focused solely on him._

 

_Jim held up a mirror and Freddie relaxed a little - although it wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t as immediately noticeable. “Thank you, darling.” He said with a smile._

 

_“It’s not a problem.” Jim chuckled and kissed him again, helping him hop down off the counter. “What am I going to do with you, Mr. Mercury?”_

 

_Freddie glanced at his engagement ring and smirked, pushing Jim against the counter. “Not to be Mercury for much longer.” He whispered in his ear. “Maybe you’ll have to teach me a lesson.”_

 

_Jim kissed back eagerly as Freddie kissed him harder, Freddie’s hands sliding from his shoulders and down to the front of his robe. “What kind of lesson do you have in mind?” He teased._

 

_Freddie’s fingers found the belt and he licked his lips. “You’ll have to find out.” He replied, gracefully sinking to his knees._

 

* * *

 

Talulah’s skin was soft under his fingertips as he carefully reapplied her suncream; she was fast asleep against his chest, having tired herself out from playing in the sea, making sandcastles - she’d been absolutely delighted when Freddie had suggested a moat which they’d connected to the sea itself, so that it filled with every new wave. Even Oliver was half-asleep in Freddie’s arms; Freddie balanced his book on top of his son’s head, occasionally meeting Jim’s eye with an amused smile.

 

Freddie recognised the music first; ironically, though Jim listened and played for a living, Freddie was so used to listening out for cues that it became an instinctive part of his behaviour. “That’s one of your quartet pieces.” He said softly, putting his book down to listen more easily. “That’s one of my solo pieces.”

 

Jim listened for a moment and then chuckled. “They play it beautifully.” He said softly, glancing up at the boardwalk to try and locate the instruments. The English seaside was a wonderful place for music and buskers, he’d learned, either on the pianos dotted around or else entertaining at the pier. “Is that from Golden Hour?” He asked curiously.

 

“It’s the coda.” He replied, tapping his fingers in time to the steps. “Makes me want to dance.” He smiled.

 

“Go on then.” Jim sat up a little. “Dance for me.”

 

“I can’t here!” Freddie laughed. “There’s people watching.”

 

“There’s people watching?” Jim replied, laughing incredulously. “Freddie, you dance for over two thousand people every time you go onstage, let alone when you perform with Queen.”

 

“That was only two thousand eight hundred.” He insisted. “But they wanted to come. People won’t want to see that here.”

 

“I think you underestimate your own attractiveness.” Jim chuckled.

 

“We’ll watch.” The woman from earlier, Marilyn, smiled over at them. “We don’t know the first thing about ballet. It’ll be cute.”

 

Jim leaned over to kiss a blushing cheek. “You don’t have to. I just think it’ll be sweet.” He smiled.

 

Freddie relented and carefully lay Oliver on his sun lounger. “I can’t believe you’re making me dance on my day off.” He said playfully.

 

_Oliver watched from under the brim of his sunhat, little eyes opened wide with wonder. Maybe one day, he could do that too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its half past midnight and i just had to answer the door to the police so this chapter is sponsored by me, not getting any sleep because of sheer anxiety


	12. Crumpled Paper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected letter, unrecognised handwriting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something happy had to happen eventually!

Freddie sat on the sofa, cross-legged, curled in that spot that Jim knew he loved more than anything. He’d taken to curling up in the sunshine whenever he could, bathing cold hands in warm light and tired eyes in an exciting glow. 

 

It had taken them a long time to agree that they had to part with their old house, both loving the space that had become so unequivocally theirs, to agree that it was time to move to a space that would inevitably be more drab than the place they both loved. So when they’d found this house with an old, unused room flooded with sunlight among boxes and spider webs, Freddie’s eyes and heart had lit up. He’d spent weeks cleaning, scrubbing, stripping, waxing, painting to make it into the perfect lounge for them, sleeves rolled to the elbows and tights torn and paint-splattered. No corner was untouched, no floorboard unsanded and unwaxed, nothing cut for the sake of speeding up time.

 

He’d created the perfect place for them.

 

The sunlight caught the highlights of his hair, caramels in amongst dark chocolates, hints of lightness in amongst the darkness. At first, Freddie had been shy of the way his appearance changed- frightened to tan in case it cost him his career, frightened he’d lose his roles if his appearance changed in any way. Realistically, though, he’d looked radiant under those lights that washed anyone else out, his skin a gorgeous honey tone, as though he was a melting particle of the sun itself.

 

Jim sat beside him and pecked his cheek lightly. “Another letter?” He asked carefully. “Sweetheart, I swear it’s better you don’t read them, I-”

 

Freddie rested a finger on Jim’s lips, smiling at him. “Hush.” He said softly. “It’s not from him, darling.”

 

There was something in his tone, low and melodic and a little sleepy, that warmed up Jim’s heart. If there was a sound to match the orchestra in his head, then this was it, beautiful and rich and honey-sweet and soft like the skin of his fingertips. He rested his head on Freddie’s shoulder, picking up one hand and carefully looking at his rings. “Who’s it from?” He asked softly, relaxing himself.

 

“It’s from my father.” He replied, taking Jim’s hand when he felt him tense. “It’s not bad, darling. Actually, it’s- it’s maybe the nicest thing he could’ve sent me.”

 

“Can I see?” He asked hopefully, running his thumb back and forth over Freddie’s wedding ring. At first, he’d taken it off for performances, and Jim had always wondered if that was a reflection of a doubt in his mind, a fear that the wrong person would see, until he’d overheard a conversion backstage.

 

_ “You know you can’t wear jewellery onstage.” A slightly agitated voice; Jim caught a flash of diamond from Freddie’s fingers.  _

 

_ “Tough.” He smiled, turning to walk away. “Because I’m married now, darling, and I’m not taking it off.” _

 

_ “Married?” Frantic footsteps following him. “Since when are you married?” _

 

And since then he’d been the dancer with the diamond.

 

“I’ll read it to you.” Freddie wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in closer. “Hold your breath, or pinch yourself. You’ll think you’re dreaming.”

 

_ To my little boy, _

 

_ I address you like that because the image in my head is still of that fifteen-year-old boy I last knew. I’m sure you’re nothing like that then - it’s been eleven years since I’ve seen you, and people can change a lot in eleven years. I know that I have, having had time to reflect on my mistakes. In some ways, I hope you haven’t. I hope you haven’t because of the wrong reasons, at least. _

 

_ In some ways, this is a long-required letter of apology, but I’m not asking for your forgiveness. By asking for forgiveness, I ask you to put aside everything that I did to you that was wrong, that was wicked, that was misguided. I don’t want your forgiveness, because that puts you in an unfair position where you’re expected to not harbour any resentment, but I’m sure you do, and I don’t blame you for that in the slightest. Instead, I thought I would explain to you where I got my wrong opinions from, in order that we might begin to reconcile a few differences. _

 

_ I grew up in Stone Town, just like you, and I am a carbon copy of my father. I was brought up with the necessity for masculinity knocked into my skull, for the sake of the reputation of myself, my father and my family name. My sister was taught to be an excellent child-bearer and housewife, and I was taught to be brutal to command respect and reputation for the sake of my family. I was taught that the only way to progress in society was through building and maintaining a strong reputation, founded on the principles of masculinity, and so I did. _

 

_ I’m not asking for your sympathy for this, but it’s just something I want you to understand. _

 

_ My father was a merchant, making a moderately comfortable living, but he wouldn’t let me do the same as him. I had to go bigger, more money, more reputation, so I went into banking. I grew as a name for ruthlessness in trading, and I took that ruthlessness into my relationship. My marriage to your mother was organised by our parents, and I immediately enforced to her the importance of our reputation - I promise she’d be beaten if she was ever found to be adulterous and thus bringing me shame. I’m not proud of it now. _

 

_ So when we had children, we had you and Kash, and I thought it was simply wonderful, that we’d gotten the perfect combination - both sexes, with the eldest a man. I thought I could get you to carry the family name, to be harder, to be meaner, to be more ruthless than I could ever dream. It didn’t occur to me that you’d ever have dreams of your own. In hindsight, it suggests to me that you were stronger than I was. You refused to be pushed into a career that you weren’t certain of. _

 

_ As you two grew, and it was clear that you weren’t so academically minded, I grew worried. I grew worried that I’d have a reputation as having a scrounger for a son, that I’d have to buy you some position in a company where it wouldn’t really matter if you were good or not. I worried that you’d bring shame onto the family name that we’d worked so hard to build over the years. When your mother suggested boxing, I thought that was an incredible idea, because you could be famous for being hard and masculine and strong, the perfect emblem for our family. _

 

_ Our culture at home doesn’t embrace men being effeminate. To be effeminate is to be weak, is to be unable to control the household. I was desperate for you to be masculine because I didn’t want you, and by extension me, to be denounced as weak. That’s why I was strong on not showing emotion, on punishment through violence. _

 

_ I’m so sorry for everything I put you through. _

 

_ When it turned out that you weren’t boxing, you were dancing, I felt sick. I felt like everybody knew and had seen you, and I was the last to know. Like I was the only father in the whole world that couldn’t control his son effectively. What I feared was my own weakness, I projected into your rebelliousness, and I wanted to beat it out of you so you wouldn’t undermine me again. _

 

_ It was only made worse when I found out about your sexuality. This reputation I’d built up was crumbling around me, and I was so frightened of the repercussions for all of us, so I thought it was easiest to throw you out. If I made you sleep on the streets, I thought it might teach you a lesson. _

 

_ Honestly, I’m very glad you ended up in England. You deserve to be somewhere where you can be yourself without people like me around. You’ve got a better reputation than I could ever have imagined for you, but you’ve gotten it off the back of being so hard-working and so talented and I’m so proud of you. _

 

_ Your mother and I went for a holiday in Singapore recently, and we saw a screening of the Royal Ballet while we were there. It was spontaneous, really; we were bored of an evening and you know your mother’s always had a soft spot for that kind of thing. Neither of us made the connection that you might be there, up on stage, dancing for us to see. _

 

_ I had always feared that ballet would make you effeminate, that you’d act and walk and talk like some ridiculous caricature of a woman, making a mockery of yourself and me. But when I saw you up on that stage, I realised how strong you are, how hard you must train, how masculine it really is. I kept quiet about you for years to friends and family, but I’ve started talking about you again, telling them about how proud I am of you. _

 

_ Your performance brought your mother to tears! _

 

_ I appreciated the little interview you did backstage. It felt almost like you were talking to me, somehow. They say you’re married to the conductor. I’m glad you didn’t stay around long enough for me to force you into a marriage with a woman you’d be unhappy with. The ring he bought you is simply beautiful. I hope he’s treating you well, and I hope you’re very happy.  _

 

_ God has taught me a lesson by giving me you and Kash as children. Through you, He’s taught me that all men are equal and that no man deserves any less than any other in life. He’s taught me the value of love in you. He’s taught me that love will overpower anything. You live a life guided by love; you’re closer to Him than I would’ve ever imagined. You love others, and you love yourself. Through Kash, He taught me that there is no one role for a woman. He’s taught me that ambition, in all its guises, is valid. He’s taught me to accept what I’m given, and that each one of us is made in His image. I used to think you were a mistake, but He makes no mistakes. You are exactly who you’re supposed to be. Each man, no matter what, has been sent as God. _

 

_ Your mother tells me you have a child of your own now, that you adopted a troubled little boy. I like that a lot. It feels as though you are making up for a lack of love in the world. I hope you take no inspiration from the way I parented you and instead use love as your guide. If you serve love, you serve God, and you bring us closer to His Kingdom.  _

 

_ I have no idea if you’ve kept your faith, but I hope you have. Know even if you haven’t, He accepts all and He accepts you, too. _

 

_ It has taken me many years, but I accept you, too. I accept you as you are, not as I want you to be. When I heard you’d changed your name, I thought our family name wasn’t good enough, but I understand now that you’re a different person. I accept you as that person. I accept you as Freddie Mercury. I accept you as a father, as a dancer, as a gay man with a husband. I believe your marriage is recognised in the eyes of God. _

 

_ Please know that you will always be accepted in my house. Whatever you are, you are my son, and I love you. God accepts you, and I accept you. _

 

_ Your father. _

  
  


Freddie was in tears by the end of it, and Jim pulled him in close. “He accepts you.” He echoed. He knew it wouldn’t reconcile everything between them, but there was no question of forgiveness. Freddie didn't have to make any snap decision. “Sweetheart, he accepts you, he loves you.”

 

Freddie laughed amongst his tears, his smile so wide that his face threatened to shatter. “I just can’t believe it.” He said quietly. “I was a disappointment all those years, never good enough for him, never what he wanted me to be-”

 

Little footsteps stopped at the threshold to the lounge, and Oliver frowned. “Baba crying?” He asked quietly.

 

Freddie looked over at him and laughed again; his heart soared in his chest.  _ Use love as your guide.  _ “Come here, my darling boy.” He said, wiping his eyes and holding his arms out for his son. He picked him up and cradled him close, pressing kisses to the top of his head over and over again. “Daddy loves you so much, sweetheart.”

 

Jim leaned against his side and stroked his son’s hair.  _ I believe your marriage is recognised in the eyes of God.  _ “Pop loves you too.” He promised Oliver. “So much, Bear. We’re so happy to have you.”

 

Oliver’s little face lit up. “Happy?” He questioned. After years of being a burden to his family, financial and emotional, he still sometimes felt unsure of his position in his family. He knew that they shouted less, didn’t begrudge treats, did fun things like go to the park and the beach and colouring and dancing, but he never knew if they liked him. Liking and loving were two very different concepts to him.

 

“So happy.” Freddie promised, holding him so tightly. “Darling, you’re the perfect little boy. We couldn’t be happier if we tried. You fill such a hole, Bear.” Though Freddie knew his son wouldn’t understand, he couldn’t stop himself from saying it.

 

The repetition of the word  _ happy  _ made Oliver smile. “I make you happy?” He asked again, looking at Jim.

 

“So happy.” Jim echoed Freddie and smiled. “You make us into a family. You, me, Daddy, Talulah, and Peaches. We love you so much.”

 

Oliver’s cheeks were pink with happiness and he giggled. “Love you, Pop.” He said sweetly. “Dewsett darem, baba.”

 

Freddie’s heart soared, and he thought of saying those words as a small child. Three years old, curled up in his crib, his sleeping sister across the room; two hasty kisses to his forehead. 

 

_ The drowsiness of sleep weighed heavily on him, but he fought it a few seconds longer to look up at his family. “Dewsett darem, baba.” He whispered, dark eyelashes weighed down with the tiredness of the day. _

 

_ A big hand pushing his hair back from his face, a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “Men hem shema ra dewset darem, Farrokh.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My spellchecker has an absolute fit every time I write in Persian! You can decide if you like Bomi or not, but I wanted to make the point that not every abuser is as absolutely mentally deranged as Paul.


	13. Disciplined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another domestic day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering, I'm picturing the bit in costume as Prince Florimund (however, please picture it however you'd like!)

“Daddy?” A little voice as Freddie got down on his knees, searching for more anti-bacterial wipes in the cupboard beneath the skin; Wednesday was the day that Jim and he blitzed through the chores, alternating jobs each week. This week, Freddie was on kitchen and lounge, meaning scrubbing of sinks and tiles and tidying cluttered floors and cleaning up the dishes that they may or may not have neglected for several days. For Jim, it was changing bed sheets, bleaching sinks, scrubbing showers, vacuuming floors - the job Peaches hated the most, and would inevitably hide behind the curtains for.

 

Oliver was sat in the big armchair by the kitchen table, watching his father completely contentedly as he worked quickly. They could both hear Talulah’s giggles from upstairs as she was rolled up with sheets and buried in blankets, her and Peaches pouncing on sheet corners as Jim tried to make the beds.

 

“Yes, darling?” Freddie asked distractedly, jolting quickly when he felt a spider-web brush his hand and finally retrieving them.

 

“What are you drinking?” Oliver asked in a quiet voice, eyes bright and alive with excitement and hope. It smelled sweet and creamy and like everything that he loved the most, and he wondered if his Daddy might share the treat.

 

“Oh!” Freddie laughed; he’d never considered that his children might be fond of hot drinks, and so he’d made his own absentmindedly. “It’s hot chocolate, darling. Would you like to try some?”

 

On the mention of the word ‘chocolate’, Oliver started nodding furiously. “Yes please!”

 

Freddie grabbed an extra cup from the cupboard and poured a little in from his mug, managing to splash some on the freshly-cleaned counter in the process. “Be careful.” He said softly as he handed it to Oliver. “It’s hot.”

 

If magic had a taste, Oliver thought he tasted it there. It was rich, molten chocolate on his tongue, painting his mouth with addictive sweetness, sliding down into his tummy and warming him from the inside out. It felt like sunshine was growing inside him.

 

“Do you like it?” Freddie asked softly, quickly mopping up the spill before it had the chance to cement itself to the counter. “It’s one of my favourites.”

 

He nodded excitedly. “I love it.” He giggled. “It’s all warm.”

 

Freddie wondered if he would ever stop smiling at the sound of his son’s laughter. When he’d first met him, it seemed as though he hadn’t laughed for months, as though he’d lost his love for life at such a young age. Now, watching him discover the things he loved, Freddie treasured every moment of watching him rediscover childhood. “Would you like some more, sweetheart?” He offered, picking up his cup. When Oliver sent him a resounding  _ yes!  _ he chuckled and kissed his head. “I tell you what, I’ll make you an extra special one.” He promised.

 

As he poured the milk into the mug, he thought about Talulah for a second. He’d become unable to do something for one of them without doing it for the other also: he didn’t want to favour one over the other with treats and love and time. “Lulah?” He called up the stairs. “Jim, darling?”

 

Two more faces came into the kitchen and Freddie felt warm inside, seeing his laughing daughter and his husband all mussed from the manual labour of the housework. Jim walked over to him and wrapped an arm around his waist, seeming to feel the same warmth and softness that Freddie felt as though he was radiating. “Hi, beautiful.” He said softly, leaning down to kiss Freddie softly.

 

He took delight in making his husband blush, and Freddie’s cheeks were stained the most beautiful pointe-shoe-pink when he pulled away. “I’m making hot chocolate for me and Bear.” He said softly; a lot of the time, Freddie stood on his toes to be close to Jim, and so there was always a comforting authenticity when he let himself be smaller. “I was wondering if you wanted one, too.”

 

“I want one!” Talulah said excitedly, hugging Freddie’s leg.

 

“How do we ask nicely, princess?” Jim looked down at her and smiled. 

 

“Can I have one, please?” Talulah batted her eyelashes and giggled; she’d picked that up from every time Freddie had tried to win a playful disagreement. “Please, Daddy?”

 

“How could I say no to that face?” Freddie giggled. “Go and sit with Bear, and I’ll bring them to you.”

 

“I’ll have one too.” Jim kissed his temple. “Please, daddy.”

 

Freddie leaned up and kissed him playfully. “Behave.” He grinned.

 

Talulah and Jim soon disappeared for bath time, and Oliver glanced over at Freddie. “Can I have a story?” He asked hopefully. 

 

The reading had been something Freddie had initially insisted on as a part of Oliver’s speech therapy; taking the time out of his day to read to his son taught him new words and how to pronounce ones that he’d never been sure of before. He usually echoed fun or new words that he learned, especially ones that the author had made up themselves, jumbled up phonetic sounds designed to make him giggle. 

 

“What story would you like, darling?” Freddie asked, quickly tidying up the last few of the toys strewn across the floor of the lounge. “We’ve got a lot of time today.”

 

“George!” Oliver replied immediately; since Freddie had started moving him onto bigger books - he’d be five and going to school soon, and Freddie wanted to fill him with a love of words that had been nurtured in him - he’d been desperate for more storytime, desperate to know what came next. 

 

“We can read George.” Freddie smiled and picked the book up off the shelf, settling down in the snuggle chair and opening his arms for his son. “Do you want to cuddle?”

 

Oliver nodded excitedly and catapulted himself into Freddie’s lap, snuggling up happily. Freddie laughed and wrapped an arm around him, pecking the top of his head gently. “Where were we?” He asked the little boy.

 

“Flea powder for dogs!” Oliver said excitedly, jabbing his little finger at the page.

 

“Flea powder for dogs!” Freddie repeated, settling down to read. ”Keep well away from the dog’s food, it said, because this powder, if eaten, will make the dog explode!” He poked Oliver gently, making an explosion sound with his lips. 

 

“He found a box of canary seed on the shelf!” Freddie smiled as Oliver started to giggle. Just then, he heard Jim shouting for him down the corridor. “I’ll be back in two seconds, darling.” Freddie said softly, popping down on the corridor and searching for his husband.

 

“Most domestic request ever.” Jim smiled; he was up to his elbows in bubbly water and Talulah still had soap in her hair. “Can you fetch the hairbrush from Lulah’s bedroom? I don’t want to leave her alone in here.”

 

“Of course.” Freddie laughed, kissing Jim’s cheek before heading up the stairs and grabbing the brush quickly. He returned and dropped a kiss on Talulah’s bubbly head. 

 

As he moved back to the lounge, he saw Oliver holding the book; at first, he assumed he was looking at the pictures, but he heard a quiet mumbling. He stopped in the doorway and listened.

 

“P-er-” He smiled immediately; he was trying to sound out the words. “Per-hap-s. Perhaps. Perhaps it-ll m-a” He used a short a and Freddie smiled at how hard he was trying. “Make. Perhaps it’ll make the old-” He started giggling and his face lit up. “Perhaps it’ll make the old bird sing!”

 

“Good job!” Freddie said excitedly. “That was amazing, Bear!”

 

His little cheeks pinkened with happiness. “I did it, Daddy!”

 

“You did it!” Freddie picked him up and spun him around in the air. “Look at you, little man! You’re all grown up now!”

 

Oliver started giggling and hugged Freddie tightly. “Can I try more?” He asked hopefully. 

 

“Of course you can.” Freddie smiled widely. “Shall we take it in turns?”

 

For every few pages that Freddie read, Oliver read a line- Freddie slowed his reading deliberately, tracing the words with his fingers so his son could follow the words. “A brilliant red liquid.” He told Oliver. “What was it called?”

 

His son squinted at the words. “Sh-ee-p. Sheep d-i-p. Sheepdip!” He giggled. “For sheep w-ith sheep-r-o-t and for g-ett-ing r-id of t-i-” Freddie explained the -ck sound quickly, and he nodded. “Ticks and fl-” Another pause while he tried the -ea sound. “Fleas. For sheep with sheeprot and for getting rid of ticks and fleas!” He read proudly.

 

“Well done, darling.” Freddie said and kissed his head sweetly. He went to read the next line but Oliver frowned.

 

“More?” He asked hopefully, and Freddie nodded immediately. “Mi-x one-” A more complicated explanation of the o and e. “Spoonful in one gal-lon of wa-ter and s-lo-sh it o-ver the sheep! Mix one spoonful in one gallon of water and slosh it over the sheep!”   
  


He struggled with the -sh sound a little, and Freddie smiled. It was the same one as he’d struggled with as a child.

 

* * *

 

If Jim were a colour, he thought, Jim would be burgundy. Burgundy was richness, beauty, royal and rich and layered and stood out in such a stark contrast to the paleness of his skin. Burgundy was just the domestic side of the lascivious red, just the passionate side of the static purple. Burgundy was the fiery passion of midnight kisses, the colour of bruises on the inside of thighs, the colour left behind when nails scraped skin.

 

But at the same time, burgundy was the feature wall of a lounge. Burgundy was homely, familiar, comforting. Burgundy was the colour of blackcurrant squash, the taste of hospitals and childhoods, the primary nutritive form for the child.

 

Maybe Freddie subconsciously bought those burgundy shirts because he wanted to see his lover in them all the time. Because now, crumpled from a show, he stood watching the world from the window, shirt-sleeves folded to the elbows and the back hanging a little messy and untucked. If he was the dancer with the diamond, his lover was the conductor that never wore blacks.

 

He wrapped his arms around his lover from behind, resting his head against his shoulder blade. “That was a good show.” He smiled, still a little high on the endorphins of dancing on stage again. His costume clung close, sticking with elastic and sweat, but Jim had never complained.

 

“It was.” Jim chuckled. “You were a vision, my darling.” A strong arm wrapped around his waist, and Freddie was watching the world from the window as well.

 

“I’ve been thinking.” He said softly. “You’re right about Paul. I want to prosecute.”

 

Jim looked as though he’d found a hundred pounds in the snow outside. “You do?” He asked softly, cupping Freddie’s cheek. “Darling, are you serious?”

 

“Yes.” Freddie smiled, giddy and sleepy and standing on shaky legs. “Yes, I’m serious. He assaulted me, sexually, physically and mentally, and it’s not fair that he keeps on getting to control me. Last time I let him worm inside my head and eat away at my brain until all was left were the bits still loyal to him. I won’t let him do it again.”

 

The look of pure adoration only intensified. “And you believe that? You believe you weren’t a part of it?”

  
  
“I know so.” Freddie promised. “He’s a sad middle-aged man and I don’t want him to grow up in the same world as my children. He doesn’t deserve my forgiveness when he can’t even apologise. He lies awake at night as the guilt eats at his consciousness and tries to undermine me to make himself feel better.”

 

Jim kissed him then, hard and passionate and excited. “Why the change of heart?”

 

“The letter.” Freddie barely pulled away. “All my childhood, it wasn’t my fault. I thought it was my fault, and it wasn’t my fault. It was his.” He smiled. “I feel so validated. I feel like everything I went through is genuine. I think that with Paul, too. He doesn’t have the right to tell me I consented when I didn’t. He doesn’t have the right to spread hate in a world that should be governed by love.”

 

Jim’s hand moved into sweaty hair as he kissed him again, but he couldn’t imagine anything better. “You’re so strong.” He promised. “You can do it. We won’t let him get into your mind this time. You’ve got your whole family behind you.” He paused for a second. “Even your father.”

  
  


_ I’m here because God spoke to me. I’m here to teach you all the lesson that God taught me. I’m here to tell you where we’re going wrong, the reason we are not yet triumphing over evil. Because without this lesson, we become evil incarnate ourselves. _

 

_ God spoke to me through my children. He recognised that I did not have the faith in Him that I needed, that I did not respect what was given to me, that I was seeking to be someone else, a man of greed, someone He did not want me to be. He spoke to me by giving me a son. My son was beautiful, born with big green eyes that would turn dark through his early childhood and fine dark hair that would become curly and unruly. He gave me a son that I believed I could model in my image, and that was the problem. I forgot my own fallibility once the veil of parenthood descended upon me. _

 

_ And as this boy grew up, I subjected him to regular beatings for the purpose of discipline. The smallest thing was punishable by violence because I wanted him to grow up scrupulous and sensible, God-fearing.  _

 

_ What you must understand is that He gave me a son who is homosexual. He gave me a son who had dreams of stage lights and ballet shoes. He gave me a son that would renounce everything and move halfway across the world to pursue his dreams. _

 

_ He gave me this son because He thought it was time I learned a lesson. _

 

_ So I stand here today and I tell you that I was wrong to hurt him. I was wrong to become so embedded in our faith that I pushed away the very thing that He had given me. I wanted my son killed for his sexuality, because we insist that homosexuality is a crime against nature. _

 

_ Humanity is like a guesthouse. Each morning, we receive new arrivals; some joys, some depressions. With each one, a momentary awareness is formed. Every unexpected visitor teaches us. _

 

_ We must welcome and entertain them all. We must be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from Him.  _

 

_ And so I stand up here to say that I support my son. I love my son. My son follows love as his guide, and serves God. My son lives happily, adopts frightened children. My son came from God to teach me that little material parts of our life on Earth do not matter if we are to transcend to his Kingdom. _

 

_ I believe my son will be alongside me in Heaven.  _

 

_ Good thoughts, good words, good deeds. _

 

_ We can no longer justify our treatment of men who do not act as men, and women who do not act as women. Every one of us is made in His image, and He makes no mistakes. It is a bad deed to punish those who fulfill their duty in a different manner. _

 

_ Accept your children. Accept their ambitions. Love them. _

 

_ He has not made a mistake. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you recognise both the book and the song referenced in this, major kudos to you!


	14. Safety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I've remembered the Talulah plotline is a thing, you're welcome
> 
> None of you got George's Marvellous Medicine in the last chapter and I'm sickened, also this is the song (it's more of spoken poetry to piano) that Bomi's speech is based off of: https://open.spotify.com/track/7IX7VAXujvcZ3e1PG7sGP7?si=gU-pwZuCS4aIHDM4N4Lx8A

Jim kissed his head as they walked together, Freddie securely tucked under one of his arms. “You’re so disgustingly sweaty.” Jim laughed a little, squeezing him lightly.

 

“There’s literally no point in showering before I’m finished for the day.” Freddie chuckled. “You’re lucky I’ve even got my breath back.”

 

“What have you been practising?” He asked curiously, holding the door to the cafe open. These little cafe lunchtime dates had become more and more frequent as it had become less viable to have late night dates; the blessing of working together meant that lunch breaks overlapped at least a few times a week, and they could spend time together without having to worry about extra childcare. They were nowhere near the same level of glamour - Freddie often wore his rehearsal wear out, knowing he’d be back in the studio before long - but Jim enjoyed the chance to be a couple whenever they could.

 

“Farewell.” He smiled at the thought of it. “I think Twyla is the only person in history that says ‘darling’ more often than I do. I think she wants to adopt me.”

 

Jim laughed and grabbed a sandwich from the stand. “I don’t blame her. You’re the strangest mixture of offensively adorable and incredibly ballsy.”

 

Freddie kissed his cheek. “I’ll take that as a compliment, darling.” He drawled playfully and winked. “You can buy me an iced cappuccino.”

 

“If you drink coffee then I might actually get to see you this evening before you go to bed.” He shot back and Freddie elbowed him.

 

“You’re not allowed to insult me on a date.” He pouted and passed over a salad. “I’m going to the bathroom. Get one of those armchairs that I love.”

 

They never needed two chairs; Freddie didn’t need a seat when Jim had a perfectly good lap. “Yes, sir.” He joked, paying quickly and waiting for the coffees to be made.

 

He took the food and drinks to their usual spot. Freddie was a creature of habit, but more than that he appreciated the traditions they’d built together; he loved that they had such a history, and that Jim had never tired of him. He still loved those seats they’d sat in all those years ago, the day that Jim had kissed cream from his nose with no consideration for the rest of the outside world.

 

He glanced down at his diary, trying to find the room to write the new score that had been requested by a visiting choreographer. It was the height of the season, and between rehearsals, shows and having children, there was little time left in the day for creative endeavours.

 

Freddie wouldn’t mind if he spent lunch breaks or time that they’d usually spend together on it, so long as he wasn’t overworking himself. It wasn’t exactly as though Freddie were resting back on his heels, watching his husband do the work with no input.

 

_“I think I’m going to die.” He lay paralytically still in the bed, trying not to move a muscle. Mid-season always brought days like this, days where his whole body screamed with exertion and exhaustion and begged him to lie still for a day. Those were the days when the numbing creams, the warming gels, the salt rubs, were applied vigorously, when he had to force himself to stand up and take the few steps to the bathroom._

 

_“You’re not going to die.” Jim couldn’t deny that he was chastising him, but the desperation of his tone did make him nervous. “Darling, can I help in any way?”_

 

_“I need some painkillers.” Freddie huffed. “And some new legs. No, pass me the Tiger Balm. I’ll force my ankles to work somehow.”_

 

_Jim would forever admire him for those first few steps on shaky legs, muscles defined as much by their size as by the bruises that clung to every contour of his body. He reminded Jim of a baby deer, but not in terms of weakness; he was a young fawn, nearly tripping and yet persisting to stay with the rest of his family. Maybe the fawn wasn’t the right comparison - the fawn was designed to stay on all its legs, after all._

 

_“You remind me of a baby flamingo.” He said eventually, the words more appearing than a conscious thought from his mind._

 

_“Thanks?” Freddie replied unsurely, but he laughed a little, holding tight to the handle on the wardrobe as he looked for clean clothes._

 

_“It’s a good thing.” Jim promised. “When they’re really tiny and they’re learning to stand on one leg and they’re a little bit unsteady but they’re trying so hard to be grown up.”_

 

_“I’m twenty-six.” Freddie replied dryly, but he was smiling. “I’m not new to it. I’ve been doing it twenty years.”_

 

_“That’s not what I mean.” He insisted, dropping a kiss on his forehead. “You just remind me of it. Like you’re trying so hard not to wobble but you might fall backwards at any time.”_

 

_“I’ll be sure to tell Olga that that’s your comparison.” He burst out laughing. “I’m sure she’d love it for one of her principals!”_

 

He glanced up from flicking through pages when he heard a voice raised- he stood up quickly when he realised it was the voice of his lover. He barely had time to register the man grabbing his crotch before Freddie had choked out an _excuse me?_

 

He dropped everything immediately, but he was second to get there. Freddie’s hand hit with his face with a sharp slapping sound, the brutal collision of skin on skin. Maybe it was because he wasn’t used to seeing his lover act in such a way, but he was momentarily frozen solid, paralysed by his pride in his lover and complete surprise at his actions.

 

“Freddie?” Jim called, forcing his feet to make the movement towards the men. “Darling, what’s going on?”

 

“Nothing.” Freddie smiled sweetly and walked over to him. “I think he’ll be on his way now.”

 

“Freddie?” Jim questioned again, especially when he walked straight past him. “Freddie, what the hell?”

 

“It’s nothing.” He replied, dramatically falling back into his chair. “I dealt with it, darling.”

 

“I can see that.” Jim choked out. “What the hell happened?”

 

“You don’t have to sound so enraged.” He replied coolly, and Jim was caught in a whirlwind; he couldn’t believe that Freddie was so calm.

 

When his mind stopped racing, he realised; while he saw it as assault, Freddie didn’t see it as anything major. As far as he was concerned, groping didn’t count as assault so long as he managed to keep his clothes on.

 

“Freddie-” He started again, voice softer this time.

 

“He slapped my ass in the bathroom, I tried to drop the fact that I was very clearly not single, and he started spewing out a load of shit about how being gay means that you’re easy and I didn’t have the right to say no. I walked out, he grabbed me, I slapped him. Done.” He replied quickly.

 

“Freddie, that’s assault.” Jim tried to make his voice sound firmer. “He assaulted you.”

 

“Not really.” Freddie started, but then Jim saw the cogs start to turn in his mind, too. If he understood what Freddie was thinking, it was never long before Freddie understood him. “Well, I mean-”

 

“Unwanted contact.” Jim sat back. “That’s assault. You know that in theory.”

 

“I guess I do.” He responded quietly. He frowned at the way his skin started to crawl; it was easier to compartmentalise it as an experience rather than as assault. “Can I- can-” He stuttered, running a hand over his arm; he hated feeling uncomfortable in his own skin.

 

Jim opened his arms in a silent offering and Freddie almost ran over to him; he wanted the contact on his skin to be the contact of love. “Thank you.” He said quietly, settling down against him. It didn’t stop the feelings, but it made them easier to manage.

 

“You’re always welcome.” Jim promised. “Now, I’m not going to let some sad old fuck ruin our lunch.”

 

Freddie smiled then, relaxing again around the edges; he could hold onto Jim until they got back to the Royal and he could get clean. “Me neither.” Freddie promised. “He’s not ruining the only bit of rest I’ll get today."

 

* * *

 

_“I’m sorry, I really wouldn’t do this if I didn’t have to. I tried to make them change their minds, but they just wouldn’t budge.”_

 

_Nervous fingers stroking through hair; worried glances exchanged._

 

_“Tell me again what’s happening.”_

 

_“She’s going to each family for two nights in turn. She’ll be back with you in just over a week, I hope. It gives everyone the chance to prove themselves to be the best parents for her. They’re still concerned about the lack of a mother.”_

 

_“Bullshit.”_

 

_A quiet voice, only a mutter._

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_“Pop, look after Snowball.”_

 

_“Don’t you want to take her on your adventure, darling?”_

 

_If either could hear or see tears, they didn’t mention it._

 

_“No. She’ll be safe here.”_

 

_The implied - I won’t be safe wherever I am._

 

_You can’t keep me safe, but you can have my token of safety._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very sorry this is so late - I have 10 hours of exams this week and so I just have no energy or motivation to write; 12 days until they're all over and then I should have far more time for this!


	15. Whiskey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mistakes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jim asked, tone more accusatory than he’d first intended. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d gone back into therapy?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Freddie replied unsurely, dropping his bag by the door. 

 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Jim crossed his arms. “You went back into therapy and you didn’t tell me. You let me get my hopes up about Talulah when they were never going to let us have her.”

 

“What?” Freddie choked out, looking at Jim with an incredulous expression; it was a side of his lover he’d never seen before.

 

“You know we’re on thin ice with your mental health!” He spat back. “And you knew that they’d think twice before giving us Talulah if you were in therapy. But you didn’t tell me.”

 

“How the hell did you find out?” Freddie was still stood by the door, not even having had the time to take his shoes off.

 

“Charlotte phoned me. Said she wasn’t sure if I knew, and sure enough, I didn’t.” Jim said bitterly. “Because you’ve been keeping secrets again.”

  
  


_ “Jim? Oh, thank God. I need to talk to you about Freddie.” Charlotte sounded absolutely exhausted. “Listen, the board won’t shift because he’s in therapy. They’re worried he’s not of sound enough mental health to take on another child.” _

 

_ “Therapy?” Jim echoed. “He’s not in therapy anymore. I thought we went through it all with Oliver.” _

 

_ “He’s been readmitted. He rereferred himself just over a month ago when he was off injured. I didn’t see the report, else I wouldn’t have been able to give you Talulah in the first place.” She replied. “I’m sorry, I thought you knew.” _

 

_ “No.” Jim sounded distant. He’d known about this from before, but he’d tried to keep it quiet. “Thank you for letting me know.” _

  
  


“I thought you’d be happy for me!” Freddie started to raise his voice to match Jim’s, but it wavered. “It was everything we talked about! It was trying to tackle it at the first stages so that it didn’t get bad again!”

 

Jim was so hyper-aware that everything he was doing was wrong, but he was so emotionally charged and upset over Talulah that he wasn’t thinking straight. “So you thought you’d just keep it quiet?”

 

“It was just a few sessions while I was injured!” An awful knot was forming in Freddie’s stomach, one he hadn’t experienced for such a long time. “I didn’t think it was relevant!”

 

“It wouldn’t be-” The words were coming before he could force them down; he’d never felt like this before. “It wouldn’t be if you were normal.”

 

Freddie stood before him for a second, in complete shock. “I know you’re upset about Talulah, but you don’t have to be a fucking dickhead to me.” He replied quietly.

 

“Freddie-” He realised his mistake and stumbled quickly, suddenly so apologetic. “Freddie, darling-” He reached out to grab his wrist.

 

Freddie snatched his hand back as though he’d been burned. “No.” He replied coldly. He tore his wedding rings off with such force that he hurt the skin on his finger and threw them at him; they clattered as they hit the floor. “Go fuck yourself.”

 

As the door slammed, Jim sat on the floor of the hallway, picking up each ring in turn and turning them over with his fingers. Each one had a different memory attached, engagement-

 

_ Freddie cupped his cheeks delightedly, kissing him. “Of course I’ll marry you, you idiot.” He laughed sweetly. “I would’ve married you at least four years ago.” _

 

Wedding.

 

_ Freddie’s fingers trembled as he slipped the ring on, both waiting with bated breath. An exchange of vows, of promises, of rings. “I told you I’d give you those Catholic vows one day.” He joked and Freddie laughed, kissing him slowly. _

 

_ “It’s about time.” Freddie replied with a wink. _

 

“Pop?” Oliver asked quietly, standing at the top of the stairs.

 

“Oh, darling.” Jim sighed and opened his arms. “Come here, sweetheart.”

 

“I want Daddy.” Oliver whimpered, but toddled over to Jim. “Where’s Daddy?”

 

“Daddy’s got a show tonight, darling.” He said softly. “So he’ll be home after you go to bed.”

 

“Oh.” Oliver seemed to calm then. “Can I have a story?”

 

“Of course you can, darling.”

 

* * *

 

 

Crying on the tube had never been attractive; Freddie rubbed his sore, red eyes as he stumbled up the stairs to the Royal, quickly signing in at the front desk. 

 

“Are you alright?” Olga rested a hand on Freddie’s shoulder. “Darling, what happened?”

 

“I need you to give me one hell of a warm-up.” Freddie replied. “Otherwise I’m going to put my fucking fist through a window.”

 

“Let’s go upstairs.” She wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “I’ve got the perfect plan for you.”

 

So when he was calmer, sat on the floor of the studio, she tried again. “What happened, darling?”

 

Freddie sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. “I had a blow out with Jim. He basically called me a freak.”

 

“Jim?” Olga echeod, shocked. “Why?”

 

“Remember the little girl we adopted?” He asked quietly. “Well, they won’t let us have her. They have to try her in a range of households so that we can prove that we’re the right parents for her. Jim’s devastated that she’s gone.” He swallowed and looked down. “And it turns out it’s because I readmitted myself into therapy. I didn’t tell him, and the adoption agency let him know, and now he thinks I deliberately hid it from him.”

 

“Oh, darling.” She sighed. “He’s just upset. He didn’t mean to hurt you.”

 

“I threw my wedding rings at him.” He said sadly. “He might say that it’s over now, and it was just getting good.”

 

“He’s not going to break it off with you just because you had an argument.” She promised and sat beside him. “He’s just hurting. He’s sad and he’s just taking it out on you.”

 

“He said that we wouldn’t have these problems if I was normal.” He whispered. “I didn’t realise he had such a problem with it. We worked through all those things today, for so many years, and I feel like he’s just thrown it back in my face. It felt like he was saying he couldn’t love me if I had problems.”

 

“I know, darling.” She rubbed his shoulder. “He wouldn’t have had stayed for so long if he really had a problem with it. He loves you, darling, and he married you for a reason. He loves all the parts of you, not just the parts of you that are happy and bubbly.”

 

He covered his mouth as he felt tears burn at the back of his throat again. “I don’t want to go home.” He whispered, shoulders shaking as he started to cry. 

 

“Is there anyone you can go home to tonight?” She asked softly. “Anyone that you can stay with?”

 

He hugged his knees, his head stooped low and emphasising the long, sad line of his spine. “My sister.” He said quietly. “I could sleep on her sofa.”

 

“Go to her.” Olga kissed the top of his head; Freddie had always felt like a son or even a grandson. “If you need the day off tomorrow, I can authorise it.”

 

“Thank you.” He said quietly.

  
  


_ The trousers were tight around his stomach; they were the same ones that had been tailored to him all those years ago, nineteen and ambitious, tinier than anyone could ever buy for him. They were a strange, vertical stripe, turquoise with stripes of purple and forest-green; the waistcoat was pale blue, trimmed in purple, and the bow tie was voluptuous, sea-green. The pink jacket still hugged him tight, the same fit as all those years ago, and the top hat balanced skewiff on the top of his head. _

 

_ He felt liberated; his muscles ached with the exertion of the fight between ballet and tap, and the smile on his face was only partially fake. It always felt good to be reminded of what he could do, how easy it was to be lost in the swirl of the music and the drama of tap shoes on hard vinyl. It was easy to forget the cold sofa that awaited him, the bareness of his wedding finger, the sinking feeling of his heart as he bowed to the vociferous applause. _

 

_ He held the flowers to his chest with a wide smile, losing all of his mad characterisation for the disposition of the sweetheart that appeared whenever he was alone. It was still a survival mechanism, but so ingrained that it had become a part of his personality; to be a sweetheart was to charm, to make oneself the object of adoration and thus, protection.  _

 

_ He ran to the edge of the stage and held his hand out for the conductor, a dear friend, and brought him onto the stage; he presented him with a single rose from his bouquet with a playful smile and disappeared back amongst the cast. _

 

_ He was a mess of contradictions; sad yet happy, taken yet alone, satisfied and yet desperately empty. _

  
  


“Where’s Daddy?” Oliver asked quietly, sitting beside Jim on the sofa. It was beyond three in the morning, and Jim was starting to lose hope; no phone call, no indication of where he was, even if he’d gone to work, even if he was safe. Half of him expected Freddie through the door any minute, a whirlwind of pretty smiles and delicate kisses that he already missed so much. He hated the coldness of the bed, the dry towels in the bathroom, the empty space on the counter where his bottle always stood; he hated the space on the shoe rack, the empty coat-hanger. He missed his husband.

 

Jim looked down at Oliver and sighed. Marilyn had been right; he was the image of Freddie, warm-skinned and curly-haired and gorgeous. 

 

Neither of them could sleep.

 

“I don’t know, darling.” Jim admitted after a while. He had to force himself not to crumble before his son. “He’ll be home soon. He was doing a super long show today.”

 

The lie didn’t sound convincing, but Oliver swallowed it like medicine. “Okay.” He replied, resting his head on Jim’s arm. “I’m tired.”

 

“Me too, sweetheart.” He said quietly. “I tell you what, do you want to sleep in mine and Daddy’s bed tonight?” It was a rare treat, but one they’d always reserved for when someone couldn’t sleep. “Then we’ll be able to see Daddy straight away.”

 

Maybe a few tears escaped when Oliver fell asleep, wrapped around Snowball, but the little boy didn’t wake again that night.

  
  


_ “I need something stronger than that, darling.” The voice was heavy with tears as Kash thrust a mug of tea into his hands. Wordlessly, Roger opened a bottle of whiskey from the counter and topped up the rest of his cup with the drink. “You’re a diamond.” Freddie replied, but his voice wavered miserably. _

 

_ “What happened?” _

 

_ It was a question he never wanted to hear again so long as he lived. “Enough questions for the night, darling, I’m tired.” He said, looking down at his bare hands clasped around the mug. _

 

_ “You can have the bed.” Roger said immediately. “You don’t mind sharing, do you, Kash?” _

 

_ “Of course not.” She wrapped an arm around her brother’s shoulder and rubbed comfortingly. “It’s not the first or last time we’ve shared a bed.” _

 

_ “I’m not stealing your bed.” Freddie shook his head. “Just throw me some blankets and I’ll sleep here. God knows I’m tired enough.” _

 

_ “Freddie-” _

 

_ He wouldn’t argue. He wouldn’t budge from the sofa. When they’d said their goodnights, he arranged the blankets in a little cocoon on the floor of the lounge, the same way he’d done all those years ago. It seemed to embody everything he felt- he knew he’d be cold, uncomfortable, that it would bring back those memories, but he couldn’t sleep on the sofa. _

 

_ His hip bone dug into the floorboards beneath him and he cushioned his head on his arm, closing his eyes reluctantly. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen, I'm sorry


	16. For Once In My Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, you have to listen.

_So for once in my life,_

_Let me get what I want;_

_Lord knows, it would be the first time._

 

It wasn’t uncommon for Freddie to have quiet periods, periods where he withdrew into himself and thought - just thought. He’d spent so long so afraid of his own mind, the endless space of ideas and ambitions and challenges that sometimes, it felt liberating to sit and think, to indulge himself. He thought about anything and everything, love and justice and family and childhood and happiness. More often than not, though, he thought about luck.

 

He often thought to himself about the nature of his own luck; whether it was luck, or fate, or destiny. He wondered if something controlled it, something outside of himself, some invisible hand of fate or the arm of God around his shoulders, building him into a paragon of virtue for success in some faraway kingdom. He wondered if he controlled it in his own subconscious nature.

 

When he considered every challenge he’d had to that goodness his parents had spent so long teaching him, every beating and every time he’d picked himself up, bloodied and bruised from the bedroom floor; when he thought about every injury he’d tended to, long lines slashed into skin and cleaned with careful, trembling fingers - when he considered everything, he couldn’t think that it was anything other than his own nature.

 

Because this didn’t happen to other people. Other people fell down in life, and were picked up, supported by the crutch of the warmth of friends and family; they brushed themselves down, patched a grazed knee or a broken leg, and returned to that state of perpetual happiness that he’d been so close to that he’d almost burned his fingers on it. Other people had that arm tight around their waist as they limped to the metaphorical hospital in their mind, until each individual cell could be patched up with kind words and smiles.

 

He thought he’d found that in Jim, but his naivety had struck him again. He was still so young, so open, so willing to trust and to love and to be stupidly reckless with his feelings. He loved so hard, and he lost so hard, and he mourned so hard; he loved until his heart could burst, cried until his tears ran dry.

 

Sometimes he felt as though he wanted to drop to his knees, to beg either his own nature or that invisible guiding hand - _please, please, let me get what I want._ All he wanted was to be wanted, to be wrapped up and coddled and adored, to finally build the family he’d felt so empty without, halfway across the world and so small and so frightened. He wanted to scream pleas until his throat went hoarse, drag his palms across the earth until they cut open from the sharp stones; he wanted to do anything to prove how much he wanted it.

 

Because he could never get there. He was lifted up from his rock bottom, let his wounds be tended to, but they were just given back a thousand times over. His mind was filled with promises and kind words, sick and twisted serpents that nestled into his mind and would never allow themselves to be removed. They were as much a part of him as he was a part of himself. No matter how much he knew they’d be broken, he wanted to believe promises of everlasting love, of family and happiness and commitment.

 

He’d once been told that his experiences would make many a man bad, cruel, desensitised, despising of the world. It was hard to believe in love when your idea of true love was to be broken on the bathroom floor, was antibacterial solutions applied to festering sores, was letting yourself be used over and over again and stopping fighting because of the pointlessness of it all. But he was different, but he’d kept a hold of the little things; he treasured the kisses in the rain, the presents and the jewellery that promised that no matter what, he’d be wanted.

 

It was funny, he thought to himself, that the mental hurt more than the literal. One name had the same pain behind it as a thousand lines carved into his skin, a thousand broken bones, that desperate feeling of fire in your lungs after a hand has squeezed too tightly. One name, one statement, broke him down more than a hundred beatings; it ate through to his core like a disease, attacking from the inside like some awful infection with the intention of death.

 

Suddenly, he wasn’t feeling very hungry.

 

He bowed his head down, the sun beating against the back of his neck. He usually loved to sit in the sunshine, dreaming of ice creams and tasting the warmth of a lover against his lips. He usually gravitated towards the warmth, as though he were wrapped in a blanket of nature’s own making.

 

The heat blistered across his cold skin. He didn’t feel very warm today.

 

He sat in the shade, on the floor of the garden, and put the half-eaten meal aside. Today was one of those days, one of those ones where he wanted to beg whatever was controlling him to _please, please, give me a chance, please let me be happy._

 

_Lord knows, it would be the first time._

 

His mind screamed at him to tell his father that he was wrong, that he needed to be cleansed of this curse that only ever seemed to make him miserable. Maybe, if he had a wife, even if he were celibate, grew old alone, he could be happy. Maybe the incessant chase for love was what made him feel empty, so sad and alone when it all went wrong. His heart cried out for home, a home that wasn’t London; London had only ever succeeded in making him miserable. Every wonderful memory had been tarnished: every memory of a lover, even work, was tainted by violence, by fear, by misery.

 

He wondered what it would be like to wear a suit and sit behind a desk. He wondered what it would be like to have a wife, have children of his own, to stamp out the longing for other men that had only succeeded in making him sadder. He wondered what it would be like to walk in from a long day at work to a beautiful young woman and a smiling baby, to wrap his arms around a soft body at night, to put all those youthful, pathetic dreams on hold for the sake of real life.

 

The ballet he had achieved, but it wouldn’t last forever. The dreams of marriage, of parenthood, of sending children to White Lodge and making a real difference to their lives - it all felt like a childish folly, the dreams that a little boy tells himself to send himself off to sleep. It was the same dream as he’d used to block out the pain of beatings, forever holding onto the notion of more, of better, of happier.

 

He coming to learn that it wasn’t real. It was easy to dream, but an impossible reality. No one would love him long enough to fulfill it with him, and then he’d be more broken than he was before; then it would take him longer to find love, and it would be shorter; a horrible, self-perpetuating cycle that would entrap him forever.

 

Maybe, if he lived alone, he could learn to block out the crushing loneliness. If he was subjected to a cold bed night after night, the company of the television and maybe a cat, he could learn to love his own presence. Maybe he didn’t need love if all it could do was bring him down once again.

 

He bit back tears as he glanced over the rooftops of Covent Garden. Had it ever been home, or had it always been the fantasy of home that kept him there? Did he want to be loved so badly that he’d delude himself into believing that he’d managed it, that he’d never have to be alone again?

 

“Freddie?”

 

His hands balled into fists as he fought back the sob, more reminiscent of a newborn baby than someone motivated by violence. He didn’t want to hear that voice ever again, couldn’t let himself keep being beaten down like this - he couldn’t afford to spiral down, down, down into the depths of his own self-hatred once again.

 

“Oh, Freddie, sweetheart-” Jim knelt beside him, went to wrap an arm around him instinctively.

 

“Don’t.” He flinched away immediately; Jim could see that he was shaking. “Please don’t.”

 

Because he didn’t want to be reeled back in, hook, line and sinker, by kind words and gentle kisses and candy-sweet promises on the tips of tongues. Because it would be so easy to be lured back in, to be caught by loyalty and a fucking love that he hated so much, because he knew he’d never get rid of it.

 

You don’t get within two seconds of a happy, married life and then part as though nothing ever mattered all along.

 

“You’re right.” Jim clasped his hands together. He envied Paul, in some ways, how quickly he’d managed to defeat those barriers that Freddie put up so desperately, but he wasn’t Paul, and they were there for a reason. They were there because he was hurting. “Freddie, I’m sorry.” He said quietly.

 

Freddie dragged the heels of his hands over his eyes, breathing shakily. “It’s fine.” He replied quickly; he couldn’t stop himself from forgiving, though he’d never forget. “It’s fine, it was just one comment, I don’t care.”

 

“It’s not fine.” Jim insisted immediately; he didn’t want forgiveness, not like this. He didn’t deserve it. “Freddie, what did I always tell you about forgiveness?”

 

He didn’t want to recall those conversations, the ones prompted by letters of court dates and a guilt branded into his heart by years of manipulation. They were so easy to recall, was the problem, curled up safe and warm in front of the fire, strong arms holding him close and tight even when he was shaking. “It should be earned, not expected.” He whispered. “But you’re my husband, it’s different-”

 

He’d never heard that justification before, but it made so much sense. He understood all the theory, but he was taught that there were always exceptional circumstances, that it didn’t apply to him so clearly and easily. He was taught that love was founded on mutual love, respect, kindness; it was different when he was shaking, bleeding on the floor, frightened for his life. That was love, because that was life, not fancy idealism. When you’re in a relationship, he was taught, you forgive because you love them. No matter what they do, you forgive them, because they love you and they’ll keep you safe and you’ll get dinner if you forgive them.

 

“It’s not different.” Jim reached out, gently touched his fingers to Freddie’s; when he didn’t move them away, he carefully interlaced them. “I’m your husband, Freddie, and I love you dearly. That’s all the more reason that I shouldn’t have ever said those things to you.”

 

He looked up then, and the sadness behind his eyes, the tiredness manifested there, was so palpable. Jim wondered if he’d slept at all last night.

 

“I owe you an explanation.” Jim ran his thumb gently over Freddie’s knuckles. “Because I was hurting, and I still am hurting, but I don’t want to lose you over this. I’ve-” Jim’s own voice thickened a little. “I’ve already lost a piece of my family, Freddie, and I can’t lose you as well.”

 

“It was my fault.” He whispered in response. “You can have them, I don’t mind. You can have them if it’s just you. I won’t drag you down.”

 

Jim squeezed his hand lightly. “It wasn’t your fault.” He said quietly. “God, Freddie, it’s so important that you get the help you need. I was being a selfish dickhead, and I wasn’t even thinking about how much of a big step it was for you to reach out like that.” He paused for a moment. “I’m so proud of you.” His voice was barely a thread of sound. “And I can’t do it on my own. Oliver stayed up half the night because he wouldn’t sleep until you came home. You’re such an important part of our family, and I hope you know that.”

 

He ducked his head down, as though he was unable to keep eye contact with the sun, let alone his husband. Jim could see, in that moment, how much his confidence in himself had been ruined; his confidence in himself as a husband, as a lover, as a father - as a person. He felt less than human. He wanted to go back in time and snatch the words from his own mouth, the anger from his body; he’d never deserved to be confronted like that.

 

“I was-” He twisted his free hand in the fabric of his shirt. “Ever since we got Oliver, I’ve been jealous of you.” He whispered. “Because I always felt like he loved you more than he loved me. He always wanted you in the night, wanted you to read stories; I felt like he only loved me because you loved me. It was stupid, but I longed for a little girl so that I could be someone’s favourite.” He admitted, cheeks burning with shame.

 

“So when we got Talulah, I was so happy. She seemed to love me so much, and I didn’t feel jealous anymore. I know that Oliver had a closer bond to you because of those first meetings, but Talulah seemed to just take a shine to me naturally, and it made me so happy. And so when she was taken away, and I found out about the therapy, I put two and two together and made about four hundred and ninety-six.” He rested their conjoined hands against his forehead. “Some stupid, irrational, upset part of me thought that you’d done it deliberately because she loved us equally. And it’s ridiculous, Freddie, and I know you’d never do that, but I got so worked up over it that I ended up taking it out on you.”

 

“You think Oliver loves me more?” Freddie questioned quietly. “He’s forever asking for you while you’re at work. He’s-” He had to take a moment to breathe, to force air back into his lungs. “We were working together on a big project for you for Father’s Day, because it’s the first one he’ll ever get to celebrate. You’re his hero.”

 

“I shouldn’t be anyone’s hero.” Jim replied softly. “I’m an idiot. I nearly threw away the one thing that means more than anything else to me in the whole world.”

 

This time, when Jim wrapped an arm around his shoulder, he didn’t flinch away. “You don’t have to pretend to like me.” Freddie said quietly. “If I’m too much, I understand. People- they’ve always said it about me. I’m too high maintenance, too much effort. Too much effort for what they get in return.” He bit down on the inside of his cheek, overtaken by shame.

 

“You’re not too much effort.” Jim promised him. “Freddie, darling, I love you so much. You’re- you’re everything to me.” He said quietly. “You’re not normal, not conventional, and you know that’s why I love you so much. Every little part of you, every little quirk or flaw, they make up the man I love. If you were anything else, you wouldn’t be you.”

 

_If you were anything else, you wouldn’t be you._

 

“I’m not asking for your forgiveness, sweetheart, because that’s not fair on you. But please-” His voice cracked a little, a dichotomy of sadness and hope. “Please, please, Freddie, won’t you come home?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reference in this is very obvious!


	17. Warm Milk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talking about the problem, instead of ignoring it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations to Jess for recognising the reference in the last chapter - it was The Smiths!

He tucked his feet up on the sofa, toes buried amongst warm blankets; it was so easy to relax at home, the only place he’d ever really felt safe. He knew every secret corner, the different parts of the wall that sounded hollow or firm when he tapped on them; he knew the scuff on the skirting board in the landing where Jim had knocked into the freshly painted wall, insistent on helping with moving furniture. He knew that the rug on the bedroom floor covered a red wine stain on the white carpet from where they’d had sex while tipsy and Jim’s drink had gone flying in the process. He knew the spot in the shower that Jim always forgot to clean, knew the hundred little places they’d hidden notes for one another to find.

 

He blew across the surface of his tea, hands clasped around his mug. It had taken a nap, a shower, food, and drink, and he was feeling a little more human again; the world didn’t risk spiralling so badly when he let himself be looked after. To be looked after physically was to look after him mentally, to push aside the doubts and the guilt and the incessant self-blame that he’d tried to put away, to shove to the back of his mind.

 

The sofa dipped beside him and he rested his head against Jim’s shoulder instinctively. He found it so easy to forgive, so hard to forget.

 

“Are you okay?” Jim dropped a kiss on the top of his head and Freddie closed his eyes.

 

“Yeah.” He said softly, nodding a little. “Yeah, I’m okay. I was thinking about the red wine stain on the bedroom carpet.” He admitted then, a hint of a smile across his lips. When he’d woken up sober the next morning, he’d tried to scrub it out, though he’d known it wouldn’t work. He remembered Jim bringing him a glass of water, smiling as though it were the funniest thing he’d ever seen, and then saying those words Freddie would never forget -  _ all homes have their quirks. _

 

It was the first time he’d had a proper home.

 

Jim took a few moments to ground himself into the situation, the weight of his husband against his side, and maybe breathed a little sigh of relief. He hadn’t forgiven himself, not yet, and he was still determined to get everything out into the open. “Can we talk about what happened?” He asked quietly, watching as Freddie took a long swallow of the tea he’d made. “Because things like this will keep happening if we keep secrets.”

 

Freddie appreciated his openness; he appreciated the chance to talk about the problem before it had a chance to fester. He still found it so hard to be open, to start the conversation - that, more than anything else, was his reason for secrecy. He could never find the words to bring it out into the open. So when he was prompted, it was like a promise that it was okay to speak, that Jim wanted to listen. “I think we need to.” He replied; he was tired, eyes dragging heavy on the events of the day, but they were tempered by a determination that would keep him awake.

 

“Can we talk about you first?” Jim asked quietly, taking Freddie’s hand and squeezing it gently. Freddie knew, by now, that Jim found it easier to talk if he didn’t have to talk first; if Freddie could be brave, then he had to be, too. 

 

Freddie nodded and took another sip, the steam warming his cheeks. “I suppose you want to know about the therapy and why?” He asked quietly, running his thumb over Jim’s lightly. He always fidgeted when he spoke; it was a piece of behaviour he’d never managed to kick. “It started about two weeks before we got Talulah. I thought, seeming as Bear was at nursery and you were at work, it was a good time to reach out.”

 

Jim nodded and wrapped both palms around Freddie’s cold fingers instinctively. “What triggered it?” He asked softly.

 

“I kept having this feeling-” He took a long breath. “And it intensified after we got married, and then even more so when we got Bear. It was like I kept looking at my life, my family, my job, and I kept thinking that I couldn’t believe how lucky I was.” He laughed a little. “Which sounds like an ordinary feeling. But I kept thinking that I didn’t deserve any of the luck I was having. I felt like I didn’t deserve a husband, a child, my career. It was like when you joke about someone pinching you to wake you up. I was spending every single second of the day waiting for something to go wrong.”

 

He closed his eyes again. “I think, when we were just together, and even when we were engaged, I almost felt a little more certain. Because to me, with that, there was always a hint of uncertainty. It was like we couldn’t move to the next stage because we didn’t know how it would work out. I felt more stable, because I felt like I was justified in expecting something to go wrong. But when we got married, when we made that commitment, I was terrified, because you’d promised to love me forever, and I didn’t know if you could keep it. I didn’t know if I was worth loving forever.”

 

“What did the psychiatrist say?” He asked quietly.

 

“She thought it was an extended version of survivor’s guilt.” He said softly. “I still think I’m so ruined that I’m unlovable. I still have this idea that you’ll realise that I’m ruined and then you’ll realise you can do better and you’ll take the children and I’ll be alone.” He ducked his head down. “And it’s like a fear that gets worse the longer we’re together, because the longer I’m with you, the happier I am, and then the farther I have to fall.”

 

And maybe that was why he’d responded so badly to Jim’s insult; he was so laden with guilt that he couldn’t be normal.

 

Jim didn’t have anything he could say in response; he settled for wrapping his arms around him, pulling him closer. Nothing he could ever say in a thousand years would convince him that his fears were irrational, not now that Freddie couldn’t trust everything that came from his lips.

 

“She was giving me some techniques to help get rid of the thoughts.” He explained. “And we were trying to get to the bottom of why it still persists, even after we’ve gone through everything. I thought that maybe she could help me settle so that I stopped feeling like I was a stranger in my own life.”

 

Jim ran his fingers through Freddie’s hair gently. Despite his initial reaction, he was so proud of his lover for recognising that it wasn’t a normal feeling; that, in itself, showed an element of recovery. “You know-” Jim rested his chin on the top of Freddie’s head. “You realised that it wasn’t normal to feel like that. I’m so proud of you.”

 

He felt Freddie relax into his hold and smiled. “Thank you.” Freddie said quietly; hearing those words made him feel safe again. He wasn’t the only one that acted rash when he was emotional; Freddie had had his fair share of regretted actions and words when he was panicking. “You need to tell me about you, too.”

 

Jim nodded. “I already told you about Bear.” He said quietly. “And that’s something I need to work on. It’s like I’m so settled with having you be so dependent that I feel like I’m doing my job wrong if he doesn’t want me automatically.”

 

“That’s understandable.” Freddie moved up a little so he could see Jim’s face. “But it doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you, darling. He’s never experienced having two parents that he can go to, and so it’s natural that he splits it fairly evenly.”

 

“I think I hold onto a lot of guilt that I wasn’t there for those first meetings.” Jim said quietly. “I feel like I can’t be such a good parent because I didn’t help you make those first advances with him. I always remember the way he looked at me when he first saw me.”

 

“It was no different to how he looked at me the first time.” Freddie promised. “If it’ll make you feel better, I’m happy to swap hours with you. I can work ten until eight and you can do nine until three, and then you can have the afterschool time.”

 

“I don’t have to work until eight now.” Jim frowned.

 

“No, but I’d have to get all my rehearsals in, so I’d have to stay a little longer.” Freddie smiled encouragingly. “I don’t mind, darling, I promise.”

 

“You’d be so tired.” Jim cupped his cheek; it was so kind of him to offer like that, but he wasn’t thinking it through. “You’d barely get any time with Bear.”

 

“I don’t mind if it makes you happy.” Freddie promised. “I can have weekends and mornings.”

 

“I’m not letting you do that.” Jim said quietly. “Darling, I appreciate it so much, but it would make you poorly. You’d get no time at home.”

 

“I don’t mind.” Freddie echoed again, but he sounded quieter, more unsure. “As long as you’re happy.”

 

“You’re not going to hurt yourself for my sake.” Jim promised and kissed his forehead. “I’ll take more afternoons off, and we can be a family together. You don’t have to sacrifice yourself for my sake.”

 

Freddie nodded then, let himself be defeated; he didn’t want to give up his afternoons, not really. “That works too.” He smiled tiredly. “Darling, please tell me if you start to feel like that. You always told me that you can’t read my mind, and I can’t read yours either.”

 

Jim nodded; having seen how close he could come to it all falling apart, it made him more determined to keep it perfect. “I promise.” He said softly.

 

Freddie smiled. “Good.” He said softly. “Now, darling, where are my wedding rings?”

 

And maybe it was the most endearing thing ever that not only had Jim picked them up, but he’d also polished them and put them on the ring stand in the hallway.

 

If respect should be earned, then he was doing a good job.

 

* * *

 

“Jim?” Freddie shouted up the stairs; he was shivering, but he’d been too anxious about a late night phone call to ignore it. “Jim?” He shouted again, far too aware that he risked waking up Oliver with every call. 

 

He ran up the stairs and wrapped himself up in his robe before walking back into the bedroom and shaking Jim. “Jim, Christ, wake up!”

 

It was gone four in the morning, hence why Freddie was so used to being awake, but Jim usually didn’t wake for another three or four hours. Especially after the sleepless night before, Freddie felt guilty to be waking him up, but he knew he’d want to be involved. 

 

“What’s going on?” He asked sleepily.

 

“You need to wake up.” Freddie said again. “Charlotte phoned.”

 

“What?” He sat up then, dragging his hands over his eyes. “What time is it?”

 

“Ten past four in the morning.” Freddie replied. “Something happened. It’s about Talulah.”

 

“Shit.” He replied, grabbing a shirt from the floor and throwing it over his head. “Fuck, what did she say?”

 

“She didn’t give me any details. She just said that she was bringing her over straight away, because something had happened. It didn’t sound good.” Freddie grabbed the clothes he would usually wear to rehearsal and pulled them on quickly. “Can you make up some warm milk for her? I’m going to make up her bed.”

 

“Of course.” Jim replied immediately, grabbing a pair of sweatpants from the floor. 

 

“Pop?” Oliver asked quietly as Freddie walked into Talulah’s room. “Pop, why is Daddy loud?” He asked, sleepily dragging a hand over his eye.

 

“Oh, darling.” Jim said softly, picking Oliver up and balancing him on his hip in the same way as Freddie did. “Daddy’s excited, baby. Lulah’s coming back to us.”

 

Oliver’s little face lit up; he had no idea of the implications of Talulah returning in the middle of the night, only five days into her eight-day stay. “Yay!” He said happily, resting his head against Jim’s collarbone as they walked downstairs together.

 

As Jim heated up the milk, Oliver looked up hopefully. “Can I have one?” He asked hopefully.

 

Freddie swept down into the kitchen and planted a kiss on Jim’s cheek, before spotting his son. “Oh, darling, did Daddy wake you up?”

 

Oliver nodded sleepily, smiling as Jim poured a little milk into his cup. It wouldn’t be long before he was fast asleep again. 

 

Jim’s stomach twisted with nerves as the doorbell rang; he put Oliver down in the armchair and then carefully swung the door open.


	18. Green Carnations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An important realisation.

The thing that distinguished her home from every other house in the whole world was the smell of flowers. She recognised it as soon as the door opened, the scent so comforting and familiar that she found the courage to bring her head from its hiding-place on the lady’s shoulder. She remembered, a thousand times in the few short weeks she’d been at home with Daddy and Pop, new flowers on the counter and Daddy showing off big bouquets whenever he came home late at night. They’d been every colour of the rainbow, but more often than not they were white; they decorated the counter in the hallway, the bedside table, the edge of the sink and the kitchen windowsill; there was a big bouquet on the dining table and the coffee table in the middle of the lounge that Peaches nearly knocked over on a daily basis. 

 

She remembered, one time when she probably shouldn’t have been watching, her Daddy tucking a flower into the lapel of her Pop’s suit jacket, accompanying it with a sweet kiss to the lips and words that she couldn’t quite hear.

 

_ “I’m so glad you let me sew a loop on the back of this buttonhole.” Freddie smiled sweetly as he fixed the carnation in his jacket.  _

 

_ “I still don’t understand why it’s necessary.” Jim chuckled, resting a hand on Freddie’s waist as he worked intently, pushing the flower through and primping the petals, securing it behind the loop at the back. _

 

_ “It holds the flower in place.” Freddie explained. “And they usually tell me what flowers I’m getting that evening, so I thought it would be sweet if we matched.” _

 

_ “You can tell you’re a classicist.” Jim kissed his cheek gently.  _

 

_ “What do you mean?” Freddie laughed, cheeks warmed with happiness. _

 

_ “Remember what Twyla said?” Jim teased. “Classicists turn out to be romantics, and romantics turn out to be damned fools.” He joked. _

 

_ Freddie pouted and then started to laugh. “I thought it was funny that they chose green carnations.” He told his lover. “I’m glad they’re so accepting, but it does seem rather obvious to give me green carnations.” _

 

_ “My darling, you know far more about flowers than the people that come to watch you. It won’t mean anything to them.” He rested his hands lightly on Freddie’s waist as he stood on his toes. _

 

_ “Oh, I’m not worried about them.” Freddie smiled, lips dangerously close to Jim’s. “I think the fact that I kiss you onstage is a big enough giveaway for them.” He closed the gap, locking his lips to Jim’s, slow and sensual and just a little bit naughty. _

 

When Charlotte’s hands left her little body, when she was passed into another set of hands, she thought desperately,  _ please, no, please, not again- _

 

She didn’t even realise she was still crying; maybe she’d been crying half the night, frightened and alone and hungry and tired and missing the days when she’d been able to go to Pop or climb into Ollie’s bed and be surrounded by friends. 

 

“Darling-” She heard a voice, and she started crying harder; she recognised the voice of her father, her Pop, the man that had kept her safer than anyone else in the whole world in the few short weeks they’d been together. It felt like a dream, and she didn’t trust it; she’d been taken away, so they didn’t want her, and she’d been passed from person to person and no one had really cared one bit. “Talulah, darling, it’s okay, you’re safe.”

 

She didn’t see the look that Jim gave Freddie, a silent plea for help; she choked on her own frightened sobs, so scared of being taken away again. “Hey, Lulah.” Her Daddy said quietly, running his fingers through her hair. “Sweetheart, can you take some nice big breaths for me? Try and match your Pop.” He said softly.

 

She tried, but her breaths were miserably weak and shaky. “Good girl.” Freddie said softly, crouching down beside Jim to be at eye level with her. It was the most attention she’d had all week. “Now, darling, I’m going to ask some questions and I want you to nod your head yes or shake your head no, okay?”

 

Jim carefully sat down with her in his arms, but he made no attempt to put her down. She could feel herself beginning to calm down, finally feeling safe in the care of the men who’d been better parents to her in the space of a few weeks than anyone had ever managed. “Are you thirsty?” He asked her gently and she nodded with a whimper. “How about hungry, darling?” He checked. He ran through the list of things that he knew could upset her; cold, pain, discomfort, anything and everything that had ever provoked such behaviour. 

 

She ticked just about every box and he set about fixing things as Jim sat and rocked with her. As he went into the kitchen, an exhausted Charlotte followed him. “We think it’s neglect.” She said, sounding so upset and so tired. “The prospective parents just left for the night because they wanted to go out. The neighbours phoned the police because they could hear her crying, and all the paperwork was on the table, so they knew she was ours. I should’ve taken her back to the children’s home, but I couldn’t, I couldn’t take her somewhere else she didn’t know.”

 

Freddie wrapped his arms around her quickly and sighed. “She’s always got a home here.” He promised Charlotte. “Even if we don’t fit the criteria and she has to go elsewhere. As far as I’m concerned, she’s my daughter.”

 

“I just knew you’d be able to look after her better than I could.” She admitted. “I knew the trial was an awful idea. I tried to put my foot down, I really did, but they just wouldn’t budge.” She rubbed her tired eyes with her hands as Freddie poured the milk into Talulah’s cup. “I’m going to make the order to stop the trial. It’s not fair, she’s so traumatised, they can’t expect her to be pushed from pillar to post and to not expect it to have a psychological impact on her.”

 

“That’s okay with me.” Freddie smiled. “Can we keep her for a little longer?”

 

“I want you to have her permanently.” Charlotte said, suddenly firmer. “If you want her, I want you to have her. You’re the ones that really know what you’re doing with such damaged kids.”

 

Freddie quickly delivered the drink and then started making a very early breakfast for her. “Won’t the board have problems with that?” He questioned. “I know they put up such a fuss about my mental health.”

 

“Fuck the board.” She replied, and Freddie quirked an eyebrow. “Sorry, sorry, I’m-” She sighed. “I’m so tired. They haven’t thought about her wellbeing at all. She needs to be somewhere stable, and you proved that you could give her a good home even if you did need some psychiatric treatment yourself at the same time.”

 

“Won’t that get you in trouble?” Freddie questioned.

 

“No more than this whole debacle.” She yawned. “You might get into shit for it, because the board will want her to complete her trial, but I’ll override it. I’ll take them to court if I have to.”

 

Freddie couldn’t suppress his smile; it felt good to have someone fighting their side. “So what are the next steps?” He asked gently.

 

“If you give me a few days to get through the paperwork for this incident and to actually get some fucking sleep-” She laughed a little then; she felt as though the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. “I’ll bring round the paperwork that’ll make her your long-term foster child. In the meantime, ignore anybody from the agency that isn’t me, because they won’t know what they’re talking about.”

 

Freddie nodded and stood on his toes to reach the jam in the cupboard.

 

“And then, if you haven’t changed your minds in three months, I’ll bring the paperwork to have her adopted, and we’ll go through changing names and things like that then.” She explained.

 

When he took in Talulah’s breakfast, and saw her giggling on his husband’s knee, it felt like such a victory. It felt like a victory for anyone and everyone in the household.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the family were very unused to waking up so early, and so Jim had resorted to doing storytime in their bed. Freddie took the time to have a shower; he’d been run off his feet all day, first with Talulah, then with rehearsals. He stood just back from the doorway of the bedroom, towel still running back and forth across his hair, and watched his family all together.

 

He felt that familiar tug on his heart, that utter disbelief that all these people in the world were his own. His husband, legally contracted to be his forever; his children, the opposite of any experience he’d ever had as a child. 

 

As much as he hated the thoughts, as much as he tried to suppress them, they rose to the back of his mind, creeping like bile up the back of his throat. When he saw them, Oliver reading little lines in a tiny, shaky voice and Talulah making sound effects, he was struck by how much he didn’t deserve them. He wondered if he’d ever really feel as though he were deserving of love, of family; though he was the principal dancer, the lover of seven years, he still saw himself as the daeva, preached into his mind until his brains ran black as soot.

 

He considered how he could leave them alone a little longer - they were having so much fun and, besides, the bed wasn’t really big enough for four, not if the children were to be comfortable. He thought that maybe he could go and make himself a drink, do some stretches, maybe write a song. He didn’t deserve to have a bad evening, per se, but he definitely didn’t deserve to displace that gorgeous family that were having so much fun together, without him-

 

Maybe he’d been staring, and he didn’t realise until Jim’s eyes met his with a steady and knowing gaze. It would’ve been so easy to call him out, call him a fool or selfish or narrow-minded, but instead his lips turned up into a warm smile and he held an arm out. “Are you going to join in, Daddy?” He asked gently.

 

He could’ve managed an excuse, just - an unconvincing one - but when his children’s eyes turned on him like that, he couldn’t imagine anything other than complying. It was when Talulah’s big blue eyes turned on him in a plead and Oliver lifted his little head quickly, begging, “Please, baba!”, that Freddie lost any semblance of composure he had.

 

He felt like crying as he found his place in the bed, blankets moulded to keep him warm, but they were tears of happiness. He found his place tucked under one arm, almost one of the children himself, head resting on Jim’s shoulder; he found his place with Oliver clambering into his lap excitedly, peppering him with sweet kisses and sweet giggles that were some of the best music that Freddie could imagine. 

 

If he were so broken, so unlovable, then he wouldn’t have this. He wouldn’t have a husband so desperate to make amends, so desperate to love him with all his flaws, so desperate to press playful kisses to his head and to baby him like one of the children to fill him with that warmth, that content. 

 

If he were so broken, so unlovable, then he wouldn’t have this. He wouldn’t have a tiny little boy in his lap, babbling in broken Persian and smothering his Daddy in love; he wouldn’t have a little girl, excitedly begging him to do the voices in the book as Jim narrated.

 

If he were so broken, so unlovable, then he wouldn’t have this. He wouldn’t have a house where he could warm his feet on innumerable blankets, be warmed by tea made by his lover, be swaddled with blankets when he was sleepy, a little like now. He wouldn’t have a house where his eyelids could droop safely, tucked under the arm of a lover.

 

_If he were so broken, so unlovable, then he wouldn't have this. He wouldn't have his family, his life._

 

_But he did._

 

 

 

 

END OF PART ONE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of part one does not mean the end of the fic - it means a change of direction as part two starts! Please leave any feedback you have on part one as a whole, because I'd love to hear it - as well as the usual commentary on the chapter in hand!


	19. Effervescent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This falls three and a half weeks after the end of part one!

PART TWO

 

London bore the mask of a town that evening, quiet amongst the raindrops; though the streets were bare, commuters jostled one another with wet umbrellas and dampened overcoats, packed together on every train that came through. When it was wet in such a way, the glow of lights did not fall on the faces of runners, but rather caught the bulb of each individual raindrop in a way that made it appear to glitter. Patent heels narrowly avoided deep puddles, the bus conductor pulled his jacket up right over his head.

 

The dark streets of Covent Garden twisted and turned into Mayfair, Mayfair into Belgravia, and Belgravia into Kensington. The District line whistled underfoot, zipping back and forth tired performers and businessmen waiting for a show; up above, in the skies, a plane headed for Heathrow, London LHR, a little battered by rain and rocking with the winds. 

 

The streets were quiet; the rain always had the same effect. It drove the children indoors, mindlessly watching the fall of water on glass, and sent them under the covers early that evening. All along Holland Road, the same picture - the parents before the television, the children complaining of boredom, slaving over mathematical equations, or else meandering into trouble with a tug on the cat’s tail. The imperturbable houses, charming English white brick in the day, grew dull with rainwater. All along Holland Road, the faint murmur of the news, the buzz of restless and unexpended energy.

 

138 Holland Road, London, W14 8BB. The lights in the hallway burned sunset-yellow, illuminating the scuff on the skirting board, made by a heavy boot with the best of intentions, the product of a desire to help with moving the furniture. The sound of laughter, of music, trickled from between the cracks in the window frame and from between the gap between the door and the threshold, the space so often padded by a draught excluder. 

 

A glimmer amongst the darkened houses, a speck of gold on the horizon. The piano repeated the same refrain, accompanied by a light tapping noise that the neighbours could’ve mistaken for the behaviour of a woodpecker, so long as it hadn’t repeated so beautifully in time with every note of the piano.

 

“It’s there.” Freddie said certainly, leaning against the wall and panting a little for his breath. “You’re too loud and too fast. I can’t keep up with you there.”

 

“Both?” Jim sounded a little dejected. “It just didn’t sound right to me. It sounds like you’re struggling against the piano.”

 

“I should be.” Freddie leaned over and dropped a kiss on his cheek. “Darling, it’s so wonderful and it fits the choreography perfectly. It was just that little tiny piece that’s not quite right.” He said soothingly. “Those pirouettes are slower than you think they are, because I have to stop and tap with each one. You’re still in your ballet mind.”

 

Jim looked up at him and smiled, as though the penny had dropped in his mind. “You’re so right.” He replied. “So what do you think instead?”

 

“Go right down in volume. Some violin, I think, so then the next bit when I try to welcome her onto the stage is a notable contrast.”

 

And didn’t Freddie’s feathers look primed and plumed that evening? Jim had noticed, since seeing this new therapist, that a little more metaphorical colour had edged its way into his cheeks; he was brighter, so much happier, and the change had been so drastic. Beforehand, the best he’d done was fifteen days without being triggered; a huge achievement, but far surpassed now. 

 

“Darling?” Jim stood up and walked over him, the gentlest hand resting on his waist. “How’s your therapy going at the moment?”

 

Freddie looked effervescent that evening, glowing incandescent amongst all the world’s rain. The passion was the spark in his eye, the quirk in his mouth that betrayed an excitement to be alive, to be breathing, to be here. “Why?” He replied with a faux-impertinent grin. “Have you noticed anything?”

 

Jim tilted his chin up and kissed him gently. “You’re happy.” He replied simply. “You’re so happy. Everyone’s mentioned it to me, you know? You look ten years younger. Everyone’s captured by you in the same way as they were when you first walked through those doors.” He pressed another chaste kiss to his lips. “You seem like you’re healthier. It’s been nearly a month since anything triggered you.”

 

Freddie smiled in return, resting a hand on his husband’s cheek. “Isn’t it wonderful?” He asked sweetly. “I thought I’d never be cured, but it feels as though the pieces of the puzzle are falling into place.”

 

“So wonderful.” Jim echoed, capturing a little piece of Freddie’s smile in his own. “What’s the difference now?”

 

“We’ve been doing a technique that means the memories don’t affect me as much.” He explained. “It’s deliberately reprocessing them. I get comfy, I get safe, and then I watch them back again in my mind like they’re a little picture on a stage. And when they start to frighten me, we calm down again, and we keep going until I can watch the whole thing back. It means that although they’re stored as uncomfortable, distressing memories, they’re not stored as flashbacks that make me panic.”

 

Jim kissed his forehead lightly. “I think there’s more than that going on.”

 

“You’re right.” Freddie smiled. “Because when they’re not scary, I feel better about myself. I feel like I can approach situations with more confidence because I’m not always on edge. I feel like I have the head space to be a better father and a better husband. And when I feel like I’m doing better, I do better, and it all becomes one giant positive feedback loop.”

 

“You’ve been so good recently.” He said, a hint of pride gilding the tonal edges of his voice. “There’s talk at the Royal, you know, of you-”

 

Freddie pressed a playful finger to Jim’s lips and winked. “Shush, darling.” He teased. “Don’t get my hopes up.”

 

_ The first sound notable from outside was that refrain of the piano, and its abandonment for the sake of the tones of a beautiful violin instead. The front door, white and prim and proper, had no signs of peeling paint; the flowers in the doorway vase stood tall and attentive, well kept and reaching for the hidden sun - they spoke of the nurturing inside the home instead of out. _

 

_ The knock on the door was firm, and was met by an excited voice on the other side, the sound of an excitable child. “Me!” Could be heard as the child stood on tiptoes to reach the lock; an older, firmer voice, a hint of an accent clinging to its perimeters, replaced it. _

 

_ “Bear?” It said, soft but firm. An arm opened and the little boy ran into it, allowing himself to be hoisted onto a hip. “Remember, darling, that you have to wait for Daddy. I know you want to be a big boy, but I want to keep you safe.” _

 

_ A giggle as a kiss was planted on a nose, another voice echoing the one before in a cry of “Me!”. The same voice, carefully taking the hand of the little girl, gently explaining why she had to be safe.  _

 

_ “Now, my sweethearts-” A lovely laugh, gorgeous and happy and melodic. “Would you like to work together to open the door now that Daddy’s here?” _

 

_ A clamour of excitement, little fingers scrabbling at wood and not noticing as careful fingers worked the latch. Their passion for life, their excitement from the every day, was palpable; this was a house where such childish instincts were nurtured, were loved, were prompted and kept into existence by the perfect mixture of yielding and disciplining. _

 

_ The heavy door opened, revealing a backlit little family of three in a warm, cozy house so separate from the cold world outside. The gold of the lighting splashed out and over the street, emblazoning the houses across the road with its vivacity; Holland Road burst out into a cacophony of children’s laughter and the sporadic violin from downstairs. _

 

_ The man holding the two children was young; though the gazer knew he should be twenty-six, he appeared more of the age of twenty-two. He wore his hair uncovered, dark curls melting into warm skin. One strong arm, the muscles defined and visible from his t-shirt, held up a young boy, and the other hand held a little girl. He wore a white t-shirt, “daddy” adorned in black lettering, black tights, and striped leg-warmers, his feet instinctively tapping out a rhythm just from the pinch and familiarity of the tap shoes. As the eyes raked back over the figure before them, they met the eyes of the boy- the man. _

 

_ They were a happy caramel, lightened in the long time since the two had met eyes. They were rimmed in that familiar hazelnut brown, a far cry from their baby green. Everything about him, every mannerism, even the way he held himself - his shoulders came up, came back, and he would never stand with soft knees - screamed to a grace so intrinsically a part of himself. _

 

_ The little boy was wearing pajamas, a picture printed on the front of a creature somewhere between a bear and a wild boar. His feet were bare, his little green eyes sleepy as they hid in the arm of their protector, having lost the confidence that clamoured to open the door himself. His hair was remarkably similar to that of his father’s, gorgeous dark curls that reflected the light of the hall on their twists and turns.  _

 

_ The little girl was wearing her own set of pajamas, decorated with tiny pictures of ballerinas; her toes were tucked safely into pink socks and she held a child’s cup haphazardly with one hand. She was more daring than her brother, for sure, gazing curiously up at the strange man that she’d never once met before. Her blonde hair was a little tangled, and the smell of steam told the man that it was coming onto bathtime. _

 

_ He looked up when he heard that voice again, so gorgeously firm and assertive and confident in himself. “Why don’t you come in?” It offered, and the door closed firmly behind the two figures of the night. “Besides, you’ll catch your deaths out there.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be so much longer but I have to get to bed and so you'll have to have the second part of this chapter on Wednesday (no chapter tomorrow - two exams and then I'm going to go and see the Royal perform Romeo!).


	20. Poolside Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A warm evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I call this: my exhaustion infused attempt at their first evening together, not wholly successful.

“Freddie.” Jer said quietly, face breaking into the biggest smile on the sight of her son, her grandchildren, the family she’d been apart from for so long. “Oh, darling!” She pulled him close and he laughed, wrapping his free arm around his mother. Oliver whimpered just a little, instinctively frightened of new people; the fear of abandonment lay at the forefront of his mind, always. 

 

“You’ll have to forgive my little boy.” Freddie said softly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Oliver’s head. The word  _ my  _ was tinged with pride, the deliberate decision to emphasise that this was his son, no matter what biology or ancient religion said. “He tends to get frightened around new people. He’ll take a shine to you in no time.” He promised.

 

“And who’s this?” Bomi asked, crouching to hug a beaming Talulah. Jer had relayed the news of Freddie’s son from her letter, but he’d been so caught up in the whirlwind of shows that he hadn’t found the time to pen a note on the subject of his daughter. Talulah was so naturally social, took a shine to anybody and everybody despite her past; Freddie had always wondered if it was the young version of his own survival instinct.

 

“I’m Talulah!” She said happily. If Freddie wasn’t scared, then she wouldn’t be either. “And this is Bear, and this is Daddy!” She pointed to each in turn.

 

Bomi laughed fondly; he’d never anticipated that he would find such joy in his son’s household. “I know who your Daddy is.” He stood up again and smiled at Freddie; awkward, apologetic, but Freddie could see the love hidden in his smile. It was a sight he hadn’t seen for a long while, not since he was small and came home with an A on his maths test; the genuine pride behind his eyes almost made Freddie want to cry happy tears. “Son.” He pressed a kiss to Freddie’s forehead, so gentle and loving in a way he wasn’t used to.

 

He carefully put Oliver down and then hugged his father tightly. His chest bloomed with emotion, the realisation and feeling of finally being accepted, being loved for who he was. There were no pretences in that home, and every part of him was accepted. “Dad.” Freddie echoed just as quietly.

 

Bomi pulled away after a while, pausing momentarily to listen to the violin coming from downstairs. “It’s good to see you.” He smiled kindly. “It’s been a long time.”

 

“A long time.” Freddie smiled shyly. “Can I get you anything to drink?” He asked sweetly, moving easily into the kitchen. Jer was struck by how clean the house was for two young professionals and two small children, but one glance at the children told her that they were angels. “I’m afraid my husband and I don’t habitually drink alcohol, so the strongest thing I can offer you is tea or coffee.”

 

“We’ll take tea.” Jer smiled and Freddie glanced over his shoulder at the children.

 

He carefully toed his shoes off with an apology for them being so “offensively noisy” and then glanced back over at them. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just go and get Jim to bath the children. It was supposed to be my turn tonight.” He smiled apologetically.

 

“It’s no problem.” Bomi promised and Freddie dashed down the stairs quickly, skipping the bottom two.

 

“I need you to bathe the kids.” He told Jim, a little out of breath. “We’ve got company.”

 

“Of course.” Jim stood up, wrapping an arm around his waist and bringing him in for a kiss. “That’s a shame. I had plans for you this evening.” He said, voice low and sensual in Freddie’s ear.

 

Freddie slapped his ass and chastised him with a click of the tongue. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Hutton.” He scolded playfully. “And don’t you dare get me going with my parents upstairs.”

 

The look of shock on Jim’s face made Freddie laugh and he cupped his husband’s cheek gently. “It’s a surprise for me too, darling.” He said sweetly. He faltered for a moment before taking Jim’s hand in his other. “Can you do me a favour?”

 

Jim sensed Freddie’s nervousness and carefully tilted his head up with a gentle guiding finger under the chin. “What is it, sweetheart?” He asked softly.

 

“Mama’s the biggest chatterbox; she’ll want to know everything.” He whispered. “Just, please-” He swallowed nervously. “Don’t mention anything to do with Paul. They don’t know anything about him. And don’t mention that we met in a gay club, either.” He smiled shyly; he wasn’t ashamed of it, but he wasn’t ready to come clean about it all; he wondered if he’d ever really be ready to tell them about Paul.

 

“Of course.” Jim squeezed his hand gently. “We met when I came for an audition at the Royal, and it went from there.”

 

Freddie smiled. “I love you.” He said softly. “And thank you for looking after the kids. I know you’re busy, I really appreciate it.”

 

“It isn’t a problem, darling. I love you, too.” He said softly.

 

* * *

 

Oliver was possibly the most affectionate child he’d ever met. Even though he’d grown so much over the four months he’d been living at Holland Road, he didn’t seem to believe he was bigger than a newborn baby. Talulah had gone to bed a little earlier, but Oliver had stayed awake, unable to sleep, unsettled by the presence of new faces in the house.

 

Freddie sat next to Jim, Oliver against his chest; he carefully combed his fingers through little knots as his hair dried from his bath and listened to a sound he never thought he’d hear; the Persian accent alongside the Irish, an amiable conversation that he could only pretend to be half involved with.

 

It had been another four o’clock start, even after a show last night; Freddie was sleepy himself, but it seemed rude to say goodnight at only a little after seven when he didn’t have to start until midday the next day. Oliver slept soundly against his chest: the weight was so comforting, so familiar, and the little boy was so calm in the arms of his father. 

 

He dragged a blanket over the both of them, listening to Jim explaining the nature of his work, almost justifying himself as a lover, and Freddie smiled. Though Freddie was self-sufficient, well paid for the role he played at the Royal, they still wanted to check that his husband was suitable.

 

_ “Have you heard that the board wants to nominate you for-” Olga started, but Freddie put his hands over his ears playfully. _

 

_ “I don’t want to hear it.” He responded. “I’m not getting my hopes up. I’m too young.” _

 

_ “You’re finally about the starting age of a principal.” She smiled wryly. “All those years of people fawning over your age. Now they’ll have to fawn over your years of experience.” _

 

_ “You make me sound like an oracle.” Freddie laughed and retied the ribbons around his ankles, baby blue satin as always. “I’ve just been lucky, is all.” _

 

_ “Luck has nothing to do with it.” Olga crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. “You’re working harder than a lot of the others here.” _

 

_ “It’s because I love it.” Freddie stood up and went up, went right over; it had been a long while since he’d stood up en pointe, and his ankles ached with familiarity and stiffness from being confined to grand jetès and shows of strength for so long. His heart beat with excitement to finally be going up again, to finally be beautiful, be graceful; he was beginning to think that they wouldn’t want him any longer because of his age. “It’s because there’s still a seven-year-old in my heart.” _

 

_ She smiled. “All the best dancers are still young at heart.” _

 

_ “It’s the ethos.” He let go of the barre and practiced a few turns. “Spin as fast as you can, jump as high as you can, attack everything with the most energy possible.” _

 

_ “It’s an ethos that I’m afraid is lost in young dancers.” She replied. “Because everyone’s so focused on technique, but that can come later.” _

 

_ “You know-” Freddie smiled at the memories that came to mind. “When I was eleven, I moved to the academy in India, and we had a big pool outside that caught the sunlight in the evenings. In the summer term, we’d play games of who could do the most fouettés in a row, and if you lost, the winner got to throw the others in the pool.” He laughed as he practiced his fouettés now. “I used to lose deliberately because it was so nice to be in the pool when it was so hot.” _

 

Freddie hadn’t even realised that his eyelids had drooped, that he was half-asleep, face tucked between his son’s head and his husband’s shoulder. It was the place in the world that he was the safest, the happiest.

 

“Why’s he so tired?” Jer asked Jim, compassion and concern in her voice. “Is he okay? He isn’t sick?”

 

Jim tucked the blanket up and over his shoulder. “He works very hard. He’s been awake since four, but he’s too polite to admit that it’s past his bedtime.”

 

“Four?” Bomi echoed. “Why four?”

 

“His classes start at half five so that he can spend his afternoons with the kids. It’s a little walk to the Royal, and he likes to have time in the mornings to stretch or pray or lounge in bed or whatever he feels like that morning. It’s because he had a show until eleven last night, so waking up at four isn’t quite the refreshment he needs.” Jim chuckled and brushed Freddie’s hair from his face.

 

“I know you’re talking about me.” He muttered sleepily and Jim laughed.

 

“Why don’t you go to bed, darling?” He asked softly.

 

“Don’t want to be rude.” He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.

 

It was Bomi’s blessing, though, that convinced Freddie to rest. “It’s okay, son. I didn’t realise you’d be so tired.” He said quietly. “We’ll be back tomorrow, if you’ll take us.”

 

“We’re performing.” He sat up and bundled Oliver in the blanket, still half asleep. “But you’re welcome to come and watch. I can get some complimentary tickets.”

 

Jer’s whole expression lightened to one of joy. “I’d love that.” She said excitedly. “Please, darling, can we go?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little boy came over to me today for absolutely no reason but he just really wanted me to know that he had his first swimming lesson today because he’s FIVE now and it was the highlight of my day because he’s the little boy I base Bear off of and it was like I was experiencing the real Oliver


	21. Boutonnière

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lazy day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is grandparents galore so prepare yourselves

Hard, callused fingertips gently skimmed over the hard muscles of his stomach, making Freddie laugh and tilt his lips towards Jim’s neck. He kissed there gently, heavy and warm and sated; since they’d married, their sex had become far more domestic, but Freddie loved the warmth it left in his heart. He always felt so loved, so warm, so happy inside.

 

One of Jim’s fingers traced one of his stomach muscles and he shivered, a giggle leaving his lips. “I’m ticklish.” He whined and Jim laugh, kissing his head gently. 

 

“I know that.” Jim chuckled. “I like it when you’re midseason. You feel healthy.”

 

Freddie laughed and kissed him softly. “You’re a fool.” He replied affectionately. “I don’t want to get out of bed. Can we stay here forever?”

  
  
“The kids will want feeding.” Jim pointed out, but pulled him closer and brushed his hair back from his face. “But we can stay until they come to find us.”

 

Freddie smiled and rested his head against Jim’s collarbone. “I’m sorry for falling asleep on you last night.”

 

“Don’t be silly.” Jim kissed his head and pulled the blankets up higher. They’d had the decency to get dressed, but only into varying states of decency; Freddie wore one of Jim’s dark red work shirts, open across his chest, and a pair of boxers; Jim wore sweatpants and not much else. He could feel goosebumps across Freddie’s back as he traced his fingers over the skin gently, though he could never be sure if it was from his touch or from the cold. “You were sleepy, baby, that’s okay.”

 

The rain pattered gently against the window; the June day was rainy and cold, decidedly miserable in comparison to the beautiful sunshine they’d had in the weeks previous. Though the rain was supposed to inspire misery, Jim had always found it calming, reminiscent of childhood days spent before the piano. He tapped Freddie’s skin lightly to the tune of the piano in his head and smiled, letting his head fall back on the pillow.

 

Freddie liked the way Jim always seemed to pay attention to him even without having to speak. The little touches grounded him, made him feel loved, whether it was strokes of the hair, touches to the waist, mindlessly tapping out a tune as though Freddie were his favourite, loyal, trusted instrument. He closed his eyes and smiled with content: he’d spent his whole life pleading for happiness, pleading for luck.

 

He felt as though he’d finally achieved it.

 

As he lay there, he sent up a momentary thanks to the world, to the universe, but also to himself. He’d persisted, he’d loved, and the world was repaying him. It felt so good to be here, enjoying simple quiet time with his husband, knowing that he had two beautiful children just down the hall-

 

“Pop! Daddy!” He heard and he smiled instinctively.

 

“Here they are.” He murmured into Jim’s chest, planting a kiss there before sitting himself upright. “Hello, darlings!”

 

Talulah ran over to his side of the bed - though really, the middle of the bed had always been and would always be his side of the bed - and held up her little arms excitedly. He smiled and picked her up, popping her down in the space between him and Jim; by the time he looked up, Oliver was being peppered with kisses and his cheeks were glowing pink with delight. “Good morning, Bear.” He said, smiling at the simple sight of his son’s joy.

 

“Daddy’s here!” Oliver said excitedly: he knew that Freddie was often gone by the time he woke up in the morning, and so to see him there, in bed, ready for cuddles before he went to nursery made him extremely happy. Freddie had always assumed that the cuddles were reserved for the mornings where both men stayed in bed; he’d assumed the morning routine ran like a well-oiled instrument and started with Jim kissing both children awake. 

 

In reality, Jim had started the morning cuddles as an antidote to the loneliness he felt when he woke without his husband; it was far easier to enjoy a coffee in bed when he had two small children to keep him company. It was an easy way for him to have company in the morning, and an easy way to start the morning with the children feeling loved; by starting the day with kisses and smiles, they carried that feeling of love throughout the day.

 

It was a similar technique that he’d used for Freddie all those years ago: when he woke him with kisses in those early days, Freddie felt as though he was loved, as though he could face whatever the day was to throw at him. It reminded him that he was worth loving, that he was cared about.

 

_ He’d never imagined that it would be so easy to convince Freddie to share his bed that evening. He wasn’t motivated by sex, just a genuine concern for his wellbeing; to have him by his side throughout the night made him far easier to keep an eye on. _

 

_ The nightmare he’d had had been so awful. Jim had never seen someone else experiencing a panic attack before, but he instinctively went through everything that calmed him down; the most intrinsic thing was voice.  _

 

_ He couldn’t even remember what he told Freddie about. Maybe it was the story from when he was six and he’d made his first ever snowman; maybe it was when he was sixteen, naive, and entered the big bad world of London and played the violin down on Southbank. _

 

_ Whatever it was, it had worked. He’d listened with quiet fascination, timed his breath to the gaps in Jim’s speech, and had fallen asleep against him. _

 

_ When he had woken, Freddie had been fast asleep against him. He’d leaned over and kissed his forehead gently, watched the gorgeous flutter of eyelashes against his cheek. _

 

_ He’d walked straight from his shower, into the kitchen, craving coffee. When he’d seen the boy - it felt wrong to call him a man - twirling to reach the milk, his heart had skipped a beat. He’d caused that smile. _

 

“The rain drew on my window!” Oliver told Freddie excitedly; he drew the same pattern on the back of Freddie’s hand. If he wasn’t so fascinated with ballet, Freddie would’ve assumed his son to be an artist; he was incredibly sensory, saw the world in patterns and colours and shapes, and always liked to tell Freddie what he could see.

 

“You’ll have to draw it for me.” Freddie smiled and pulled his son close, tucking his hair back from his face. “You’re getting long, ezazem.” He chuckled softly. “We’ll have to let Pop cut it for you.”

 

Oliver shook his head, but he smiled happily at the nickname; it was a new one, one that he hadn’t heard before. “Ezazem.” He echoed, voice tinged with questions. “I want it like you.” He said quietly, wrapping one of Freddie’s curls around his finger. “Yours is long.”

 

Freddie smiled. “It means baby.” He explained softly. “And yours is even longer than mine, darling. It definitely needs a trim.”

 

“Like yours.” He echoed again. Freddie was his biggest role model in the whole world: he wanted to be just like his Daddy. Ever since Freddie had spoken Persian to him, he’d had this sense, a belief in himself: if his Daddy could be pretty, then he could be, too.

 

_ The gold jacket hugged his figure tightly; the white tights clung to every curve and contour of his body. He stood unsurely on white pointe shoes, cheeks suffused with a blush; he hadn’t danced en pointe for so long, and especially not for an unequivocally male character. This was a reworking of Prince Florimund, and Freddie felt so young again; the character spoke of the grace of a young man, a role he hadn’t fulfilled for so long. _

 

_ “I think you look younger than when I first met you.” Jim rested his hands on Freddie’s waist. “I can never get over how pale they make you look.” _

 

_ Freddie laughed shyly; it was as though he was already in character. “I’m not sure about the pointework.” He spoke so softly, as though back in the body of that nineteen-year-old. “I’m not sure I know it well enough.” _

 

_ Jim kissed his forehead, instinctively softer. “My darling, you know it as well as you know anything else. I believe that you can do it.” He said gently. Freddie’s curls hung loose, untouched, unstraightened and unstyled for once, and Jim resisted the urge to comb a hand through them in the way that he loved to at home.  _

 

_ He stood up en pointe and kissed him softly, wrapping his arms around his Jim’s neck. “I love you.” He whispered, one hand sliding to do up another button on Jim’s shirt. “You’ve got the honour of the orchestra behind you.” _

 

_ Jim chuckled and kissed him again. “I can’t attempt to critique you.” He smiled. “You look beautiful, my darling. I’ll be right there for you.” _

 

As he bowed, his fingers swept the floor, cold vinyl touching his soft fingertips. He stood up and raised an arm, pointed up towards the heavens; he enjoyed a moment of basking in the applause before he stood back for the next set of bows. He took his flowers with a blush and quickly ran over to the edge of the stage to hold a hand out for his lover.

 

He surreptitiously tucked a matching flower into the space designed for his boutonnière before extending an arm for his husband; the room went up in applause again and Freddie’s cheeks pinkened with delight.

 

Somewhere in there was his family; his mother, his father, his sister, his son, his daughter. He returned back to the dancers with Jim by his side for the final bow. As they came back up, the crowd roared, and Freddie blew a kiss out into the audience, straining his eyes to spot the people he loved the most.

 

As he was about to leave, a microphone was stuck under his nose: not an uncommon occurrence, but one he’d rather avoid on this occasion. “Unusual affection tonight, Mr. Mercury?” The girl asked sweetly, and he repressed an eye-roll.

 

It was strange to hear himself referred to as  _ Mercury _ \- it was a purely professional term, and it only represented half his person.

 

“Is it a sweetheart?” She asked, and he couldn’t repress his laugh.

 

“Get your mind from the gutter!” He laughed. “No, darling, I’m married to tonight’s conductor. I don’t need a sweetheart.”

 

She looked a little disappointed by the lack of scandal. “Then who is it?”

 

“My family.” A softer tone than expected went into his voice. “My Mama and Dad, my son, my daughter and my sister. It’s the first time they’ve come together to see us.”

 

As he met eyes with Jim, he saw a flash of love, pride, honour. As the interview progressed into mundanity, he couldn’t find it in himself to mind; not when that hand rested back on his waist, gentle and comforting.


	22. Peaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A summertime sweetness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I didn't upload yesterday but please take a 3000-word chapter as my apology!

The sun touched the high points of his cheeks as he looked up at the morning sky; he smiled as the warmth ran down over his face, soft and smooth like water. He sipped his tea and curled his legs underneath him, feeling safe and protected here in his own garden. The garden had been Jim’s domain, while the house had been his own; the house was intricate, clean lines and light colours, Freddie through-and-through, while the garden was Jim’s quintessence.

 

It was a little wild in places, rose bushes and buddleia and the huge oak trees right at the end of the garden. However, he’d cleared out a space for entertaining, for socialising - or, more frequently, for Freddie’s morning drink in the garden. The stairs down into the garden twisted and turned, hiding the rest from view. The ground was bare tiles, stepping stones wandering from the stairs straight through to the concealed space; Freddie’s favourite hanging nest chair was cosy in one corner, alongside a picnic bench and across from a little outdoor shower. Although it was the height of unnecessary luxury, they even had a pool in the outhouse; the big doors opened out onto the garden, both inside and outside at once.

 

It was a Sunday morning, so there was no need to rush; it was just after six, hours before anyone else would wake. Though he often woke late on a Sunday morning, lazed around in bed for hours before finally getting up, today he’d woken earlier and he was determined to make the most of the time to himself.

 

One hand balancing a book on his knee, the other hand cradling his tea. Himself, the quiet of the garden, the sunshine painting everything with that friendly warmth that touched his heart.

 

He placed down the mug and padded softly down the garden: his hair hung softly, a little too long now, the curls beginning to be weighed down by the volume. He let his toes drift through soft, dry grass and smiled to himself.

 

If anything, he thought, this was what happiness was.

 

His husband’s jumper protected him from the slight chill in the morning air and he rolled up the sleeves, picking a flower and twirling it between his fingers. He smiled as he smelled it, running the pad of his thumb over the soft blush rose petal. He carefully picked off each thorn and lay it down beside his empty mug; he’d put it in a vase on the bedside table later. As he turned around, a flutter of wings caught his attention.

 

He was a real-life Alice in Wonderland as he jumped down into the grass, following the butterfly instinctively. The blue wings jumped out from amongst the muted tones of the garden: he walked amongst trees, dodging bushes, picking a raspberry from the bush as he passed and popping it into his mouth.

 

Sourness exploded over his tongue and he smiled again, his face aching from the happiness. He stopped as the butterfly landed on the raspberry bush and leaned down; his heart skipped momentarily as it flew up in the air again and landed on his finger. He tilted his hand up gently and looked at the butterfly closely.

 

The richest royal blue was splashed across its wings, interspersed with black veins that drew the most beautiful geometric patterns. He caught in a whirl of awe, of early morning sunshine and the charm of nature and the sourness of raspberry juice cutting across his palette.

 

“Good morning, darling.” Jim said softly, leaning against a tree trunk and watching him with a smile. 

 

Freddie glanced around quickly, cheeks suffused with a blush that danced its way over his chest. He looked like a child caught with his hand in a candy jar, lips pink with fruit juice, sleepy sunshine clinging to his hair and his eyelashes. He smiled shyly, caught out in a wholly private moment. “Good morning.” He whispered.

 

Jim walked a little closer, trying not to startle the butterfly. “Maybe you should be Aurora instead of Florimund.” He smiled fondly and plucked another raspberry off the bush; Freddie took it with a shy laugh, sharp and refreshing juice bursting over his tongue and making him smile.

 

“What time is it?” Freddie asked softly, lifting his finger so Jim could look at the butterfly.

 

Jim wasn’t sure what was more beautiful; the gentle watercolour of its wings, or the watercolour that it painted on Freddie’s cheeks. “It’s just gone seven. I’m awake early.”

 

Freddie smiled as it flew away, watching it dance across the garden. “I meant to go for a swim but I got distracted.” He laughed shyly.

 

“Eating all my fruit, by the look of it.” Jim teased and popped a raspberry in his own mouth. “They’re ripe now.”

 

“We should pick them.” Freddie suggested. “I can eat them like candy.”

 

“I should take you fruit picking.” Jim mused, picking off a few more. “Maybe we’ll finally be able to get you enough peaches to last more than a day. You’re insatiable.”

 

Freddie’s face lit up at the suggestion. “We’d have to pay a million pounds for everything I’d want.”

 

“We could take the children. Bear would eat strawberries directly from the bush and I bet Talulah would take to blackberries.” He smiled at the thought. “You can sit on my shoulder and pick peaches from the tree.”

 

He closed the gap between them and hugged Jim gently, resting his head against his lover’s shoulder. There were no pretences today, Jim recognised; Freddie had no need to keep secrets, no desire to be anything other than true. It was that same softness, that same openness, that same way he’d been after they’d gotten engaged, falling asleep with hands tangled just to feel the cold press of his ring.

 

_ Freddie was fast asleep against his chest, hair still messy and cheeks rosy with exertion. Jim trailed a hand over his bare back, smiling at the smoothness of his skin; he traced his fingers down his bare arm, stopping when his fingers met the coldness of gold around his finger. _

 

“I’d like that.” Freddie said softly. “We should go soon.”

 

Jim rested his nose against Freddie’s hair, dandelion-soft against his skin and warmed from the sun. He smelled faintly of shampoo, of hairspray, of peaches, of everything Jim wouldn’t trade for the whole world. The smell made him feel soft inside, so domestic and so familiar and suddenly he never wanted to let Freddie go. “Let’s go today.” He said softly, arms tight around his waist.

 

“Can we?” Freddie asked hopefully, sounding as though Jim had promised him the whole world, not just cherries and peaches. “We can take Mama and Dad. Maybe they could spend a little time with the kids.”

 

Jim pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “And we can steal off for a little while. You know how much I love walks with you.”

 

Freddie sometimes wondered if he’d ever stop blushing; Jim knew each type of blush far too well, the perfect way to elicit it. Pointe shoe pink was for times like now, the blush of compliments and love; peony pink was for surprises; rose was for odd kisses and proud remarks to others about his husband; punch pink came with the familiar flush of arousal, and peach pink was the colour of his cheeks when he was asleep, warm and cozy. “I love you.” He said softly, glancing up at Jim. “I love you so much.”

 

Jim ran the backs of his fingers across Freddie’s cheek, a little rough from forgetting to shave, and he smiled. “I love you too, honey.” He said softly.

 

Honey was a new one, Freddie had noticed, sneaking its way into the repertoire. He was  _ sweetheart _ , he was  _ darling _ , he was  _ baby _ , he was  _ dear _ , he was  _ my love _ , and now he was  _ honey _ , too.

 

* * *

 

_ Jim had had many amazing ideas in his time, but Freddie considered that this was probably the best one yet.  _

 

He sat on Jim’s shoulders, laughing as he retrieved the best fruit from the top of the tree, the fruit with the most sunshine to ripen it so perfectly. The basket was full of cherries - Jim’s favourites - plums, apricots, mulberries. Now, he was reaching for the best peaches, one hand steadying himself on his husband’s shoulder while the other retrieved as much as he could hold.

 

“How long do you think this whole tree would last you?” Jim teased. “Three days? Two?”

 

“I’m going to eat the entire tree for breakfast tomorrow.” Freddie giggled as he placed the fruit down in the basket. He immediately got to work picking more, cheeks flushed with delight. “Can we get some apricots?”

 

“We can get everything, darling. We still have the tropical part to explore.” Jim smiled. “And I know you’ll want at least a thousand mangoes.”

 

Freddie laughed. “I hope Mama gets starfruit. She makes such amazing juice.” He smiled at the memories of his childhood, drinking fresh juice in the sunshine on summer evenings. 

 

“I hope I can try some.” Jim chuckled. “How many have you got?”

 

“At least twenty.” Freddie put them in the basket and jumped down. He leaned up and kissed Jim’s cheek sweetly. “Thank you for helping me reach.”

 

Jim picked up a peach, washed it under the nearby tap and then held it to Freddie’s lips. He smiled excitedly and bit down, sweetness and acidity bursting across his tongue. He laughed and pulled back from Jim’s hand, cupping his chin where the juice was running down his skim. He caught Jim’s eye and winked as he carefully blotted it off his skin. “That’s fucking good.” He chuckled.

 

Jim took a bite and smiled. “Much better than those market ones you buy.”

 

“I like the greengrocer!” Freddie laughed. “I’m a loyal customer.”

 

“Not that loyal anymore.” Jim chuckled.

 

_ Jer was in her element; Talulah hung onto her every word as she explained how to choose the best raspberries. “Make sure it’s nice and red.” She advised and Talulah reached out to touch one. _

 

_ “Like this, Mhamó?” She asked softly, holding it up to the light. While her Daddy was her Daddy and her Pop was her Pop, nobody had told her what to call Jer. She’d thought it natural to call her what Jim called the little old lady that he spoke to on the phone for hours at a time - Mhamó. _

 

_ “That’s perfect, darling!” Jer smiled and held out the basket so that she could put it in. “See how many of those you can find.” _

 

_ She could see Daddy and Pop out of the corner of her eye, and she was happy. She’d spent a long time feeling lonely, trying to feed herself and clamber over the bars of her crib to put herself to bed - something which had resulted in bruises many times - and so to suddenly be put in the middle of a family that loved her made her very happy.  _

 

_ The sun was warm, and she could hear her brother laughing from where Bomi had picked him up to help him pick apples. She’d take this life over days trapped alone indoors, watching the world out of the window with a doll for company. _

 

_ Here she was valued. Her Pop had woken her up with kisses that morning, helped her pull on little striped tights under the lovely clean dress he’d bought her. Her brother had blown bubbles at her in the bath last night, and she’d crawled into his bed when she’d had a nightmare. He’d given her his special blanket and fallen asleep curled around her. _

 

_ She had a family now. _

 

_ Oliver giggled, sitting happily on his grandfather’s hip as he picked fruit from the lower branches, dropping the bright buds into the little basket he was holding. “What are these, baba bozorg?” He asked curiously. _

 

_ Bomi smiled at the name. After Kash’s complete aversion to having children, and finding out about Freddie’s sexuality, he’d resigned himself to never experiencing the joy of grandchildren; to come to London, to meet two children, to have a little girl to teach and a little boy to spoil was every one of his dreams come true. He’d never expected that one day, he would be a grandfather too. He’d never expected that his son would be the one to give him children. _

 

_ He’d never expected that his son would be quite this perfect. _

 

_ “These are cherries.” He explained, carefully prising one apart to remove the stone. “Here, try it.” _

 

_ Oliver’s little face lit up as he tasted the tart sweetness. “It’s nice!” He said excitedly.  _

 

_ “They’re one of your baba’s favourites.” Bomi smiled. “But he likes peaches the most.” _

 

_ Maybe he was partly inspired by Freddie’s adoration of the peach tarts that Jer made when he was a child; maybe he was partly inspired by watching his son balancing precariously on shoulders to reach the best fruit on trees. He’d never seen his son so happy, but his happiness was infectious.  _

 

* * *

 

Freddie cradled the mug in both hands, swaying a little in the kitchen. He sipped a little from the mug and smiled, stepping down from the back door to the ledge that overlooked their garden. Bomi and Jer had left for the night, the children had gone down for an early night, and Jim had gone for a shower. 

 

He leaned with his elbows on the balustrade and blew on the steam to cool it. He was dressed lazily, boxers and t-shirt and socks, but the day was warm and happy and Freddie was perfectly content how he was. He felt so liberated, so light, as though the air itself cleaned his mind and his soul, as free as the butterfly that had chosen to land on him that morning.

 

After seven and a half years, Jim had still yet to learn every element of his husband’s body language; Freddie at peace and Freddie upset often had the same posture, shoulders a little hunched and the long, relaxed line of his spine. He walked up behind his husband, his beautiful husband, warm and powdered and perfumed from his earlier shower; his own hair clung to the nape of his neck with excess water. “How are you feeling, darling?” He asked softly.

 

Freddie glanced up and smiled sleepily. The first day that Jim had discovered that Freddie used baby powder on his skin, he’d nearly gone crazy, his heart bursting from sweetness. Now he was used to the gentle fragrance that clung to him, to his clothes, to the silk bed clothes that they slept between. When he lifted Freddie’s hand, pressed a kiss to his wedding ring, he could taste it against his lips. “Can I be honest with you?” Freddie asked softly.

 

Jim smiled - the fact that Freddie thought it was a question that needed asking endeared him. “Always.” He said softly. “Do you want to go and sit down there?”

 

Freddie smiled at the idea; it was as though Jim could read his mind. “Yeah.” He took Jim’s hand and walked down the stairs quickly, handing his mug over so he could jump the last two from the force of habit. The playfulness in Freddie warmed Jim’s heart; this honesty didn’t seem like a negative honesty. “So how do you feel?” He echoed, sitting down on the loveseat beside his husband.

 

Freddie tucked one foot under and sat opposite him. “Vulnerable.” He responded, the word coming easily to him. For so long it had been a dirty word, a word suggesting that he couldn’t look after himself, that he’d been ruined, exposed to the possibility of an attack. “But, like- it’s not a bad thing.”

 

A gentle hand rested on Freddie’s ankle and Jim smiled. “What’s it like?” He asked curiously.

 

“It feels like I can be open.” He said softly. “Like when I was seventeen and I loved everyone and I trusted everyone and I let myself be vulnerable to everything.” He smiled as Jim twirled a curl around his finger. “I feel like I’m me.”

 

Jim twisted a few little strands around one another. “How is this you different to the other you?”

 

“I feel like-” A different blush this time, a light powder pink of embarrassment. “The whole time we’ve been together, I feel like I’ve had defences up for one reason or another. At first, it was because I really wanted you to propose to me-” He laughed shyly. “And then I wanted to make sure we actually got married and you didn’t get sick of me, and then I had to make sure I was perfect for the adoption agency, and then there was everything with Talulah, but now-”

 

He lifted his head and met Jim’s eyes. His expression was so raw, so open, and it was something Jim could watch forevermore. It felt as though he were saying  _ this is me, take me or leave me.  _ “Now I get to be myself.”

 

“I love you.” Jim replied, gently touching Freddie’s warm cheek. “I love you so much.”

 

“I love you too.” Freddie came closer, crawling towards his lap. “I love you so much. I never thought I’d heal, Jim, but I feel it now, I feel what everyone describes.”

 

Jim rested a gentle hand on his shoulder as he settled gently. “How does it feel?” He asked softly.

 

“I feel liberated.” He smiled. “I feel free. I feel like the hold he had over me is finally gone. I finally like there’s nowhere else in the whole world that I’d rather be.”

 

And when Freddie was on top of him that night, head thrown back and lip caught between his teeth, he laughed. He laughed because he was warm, because he felt so good, because the sparks raced up his spine and painted gold across his skin. He laughed because truly, honestly, there was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be.


	23. Aluminium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All in the space of an evening.

The day had been a mad rush from the beginning; Freddie had overslept, meaning a rush for the tube and missed opportunities for kisses before he left. It wasn’t until Brian phoned the Opera House - knowing that Freddie would forget - that he remembered why his day was so crazy.

 

Class from half ten until four, an hour to get into something decidedly less drab that rehearsal wear, pick up the single and walk over to Leicester Square. Even the thought of a radio interview, trying to sell a single that EMI were still refusing to release, sent his heart pounding. Then it was straight back to the Opera House for the last performance of the season, a final Sleeping Beauty, with a twinge in his leg that wasn’t going to make it easy.

 

“Are you sure it’s not too-” Freddie struggled to find the word as Jim straightened out his collar. “Flamboyant?”

 

The leather hugged his thighs tightly, paired with a satin shirt and platforms that brought him almost to Jim’s height. “You want to be flamboyant.” Jim smiled and kissed him gently. “You’re about to flirt your way to having your single played on mainstream radio. Use every weapon in the book.”

 

Freddie laughed shyly. “God, I’m not confident enough for this.” He said softly.

 

“You are.” Jim squeezed his hand gently. “All the boys will be right outside the studio. They’ll be so proud of you.” He smiled then as Freddie started fiddling with the cuff of his jacket. “You’re my little performer. Go knock them out.”

 

And though he was nervous, though anxiety twisted at his stomach, he walked into that studio with his heels clicking, as though he knew every twist and turn of those corridors as well as he knew the Opera House. 

 

_ “A taste of the new record?” Kenny eased him in and Freddie smiled, oh-so-coquettish, holding the vinyl just out of reach. _

 

_ “Oh, I’m really not supposed to, darling.” He teased, putting on the Freddie Mercury act that they all knew so well.  _

 

_ “Forbidden fruit?” He smiled. “I’m a sucker for it. Hand it over.” He snatched it from Freddie and he laughed, picking up the champagne from the table. It was silly, to drink before a performance, but it was part of the custom. “Oh- Bohemian Rhapsody.” _

 

_ “Bohemian Rhapsody.” Freddie rolled the sound playfully. “The BBC won’t play it. In fact, no one will play it at all, and so EMI won’t release it.” He pouted his lower lip, a perverse madonna. _

 

_ “What’s wrong with it?” Kenny asked curiously, setting it on the turntable.  _

 

_ “Nothing, darling. Nothing at all.” Freddie smiled. “Except that it’s six minutes long.” He leaned forward, pausing between each word; his smile was a serpent’s, so endearing and so challenging. _

 

_ “Six minutes long?” Came the echo and Freddie nodded playfully, taking a drink. _

 

_ “You’d have to be mad to play it.” He replied, lowering his voice a little, playing with the tone that got Jim into bed so easily. _

 

_ “You’d have to be bonkers.” Kenny echoed earnestly.  _

 

_ “They’d positively forbid it.” He popped each sound, mere centimetres from his face. Kenny smiled and winked at him, leaning into the microphone. _

 

_ “Let’s hear it.” He replied; the sound of wine glasses clinking was audible throughout the room. “Ladies and ladies, a Capital Radio exclusive, for the first time ever: Bohemian Rhapsody.” _

  
  


He should’ve stopped after the first act. With seven years of experience, he should’ve known better than to push himself beyond his limits; he should’ve understood every twinge of his body and known the warning behind it. He should’ve recognised that the pain in his thigh was only intensifying throughout the performance, that it was drowning out the adrenaline and the joy he got. 

 

He definitely should’ve stopped after the second act, when the pain magnified its way through his ankle, when his left leg felt like it was on fire. What he shouldn’t have done was taken codeine and continued - that was a thing of the past.

 

He didn’t know how to stay stop. His heart was thumping with the adrenaline of performance, with the adrenaline of the success of his meeting, and with the rushed whisper in his ear before he started performing -  _ go off and put on the jacket before the bows.  _ He knew what it meant, had been dreaming of those words since he was a young boy, but he couldn’t dream of dancing again when his leg felt like this.

 

He glanced over himself in the mirror; black tights, white shirt, red suit jacket. He ran a hand through his hair, but there wasn’t much he could do in the few seconds to clear the sweat. He shook his hands out nervously and smiled at his reflection as Jim struck up the music again - he had to know. They all had to know, he was sure. 

 

His leg protested meekly under his weight as he ran back out onto the stage; he’d changed into split-soles, trying to take the pressure off his ankle. He caught Jim’s eye as he came to the front of the stage and bowed, cheeks pinkening with delight at the wink he was shot. The director came to the side of him and Freddie smiled, moving to the side as a sign of respect.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen.” He started, regaining the attention of the audience. “This evening is a historic moment for all of us. We welcomed a certain Freddie Mercury - or, as we really should call him now, Freddie Hutton - to The Royal Ballet School nine years ago, and to The Royal Ballet itself a year and a half later. We thought it was only right that we applauded his service at the end of his seventh season with us.”

 

The flush on his cheeks turned darker as the audience burst into applause; he squeezed one hand in the other behind his back shyly. “Ladies and gentlemen, as The Royal Ballet, we felt it was only right to recognise such talent and dedication to our beloved art. And therefore, this evening, we thought it right to award him the distinguished honour of prima ballerina assoluta. This is the third time such an award has been granted to a member of our company since its inception, the first time it has been presented to a ballerina still serving, and the first time it has been presented to a male dancer around the world.”

 

The red pointe shoes were heavy in his hand, brand new, forever marking him out. He bowed gratefully, first to the director and then to the audience, but his stomach turned at the idea of having to dance again; he’d at least need painkillers before he could.

 

“To mark the unconventional nature of our beloved prima ballerina, we’ll be having a similarly unconventional show at the beginning of the next season to celebrate.” The director’s voice faded into the background as Freddie sighed with relief.

 

* * *

 

“Where’s Jim?” Freddie asked Olga, binding a bandage tightly around his upper thigh. “Have you seen him?”

 

“Dealing with some kind of orchestra malfunction. Someone put their foot through a drum or broke a bow or knocked one of the pianos out of tune, and he didn’t want to leave it seeing as you’ve both got a couple of weeks off now.” She explained. “Is your leg alright?”

 

“I can’t walk on it.” He told her. “One of the other guys had to stop me falling straight on my face as we walked off stage. It was alright with painkillers and adrenaline.” He strapped up his ankle. 

 

“Do you need me to go and get him for you?” She asked.

 

Freddie shook his head. “One of the guys has offered to take me over to UCH because it’s on his route. Said he’ll wait for me to get strapped up and then take me home. Tell Jim that I’ve gone to UCH, tell him to go home to the kids and tell him not to wait up because I don’t know how bad it is. I’ll call him if I need him, so it’s best he’s at home.”

 

She nodded. “Anything else you want me to tell him?” She asked.

 

Freddie stood up; Ed wrapped an arm around his waist to support him. “Tell him I love him.” He smiled shyly. “And tell him I’m fine and he’s not to worry. I’ll be home in no time.”

 

_ “Genuinely, Fred, I know your man’s got the kids. He won’t want to leave them on their own. I’m going to bed, but you phone me when you need me to take you home.” _

 

_ “It might be the middle of the night, darling, don’t worry about me.” _

 

_ “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not letting you fork out for a taxi when I can get you home. It’s not like we have anything to be awake for tomorrow morning. Call me whenever you’re done.” _

 

The morning light was creeping over the horizon as Freddie rubbed his eyes blearily; the little bed was nothing if not uncomfortable. “Thanks for coming.” He said shyly.

 

“I said, didn’t I?” Ed smiled. “You chose a sociable hour to be done. They said you’re all good to go, but we need to go and collect crutches and your prescription. You might want to get another ankle support while you’re there.”

 

“Yeah.” He yawned and grabbed his jacket from the side. “Yeah, I fucked that pretty badly.”

 

“Not as bad as the thigh.” Ed helped him up and supported him until they got crutches. “I’m surprised you got past the first act.”

 

“It’s the adrenaline rush.” Freddie pushed his hair back and then started to walk. “What time is it?”

 

“It’s just gone seven.” Ed replied, holding the door open for the pharmacy. 

 

“Jim’s going to kill me.” Freddie muttered. “I thought I’d be home by midnight.”

 

“It’s not your fault you needed those screws and plates.” He shrugged as Freddie retrieved and paid for his painkillers. “It was just a nasty fracture.”

 

As they pulled up outside the door, Freddie glanced at the stairs up to his house: only five, barely a challenge, but he was so tired he didn’t appreciate the minor challenge they presented. “Thanks again.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his tired eyes. “Really appreciate it.”

 

“Want some help with those stairs?” Ed offered. “I can carry you up them.”

 

“You don’t need to do that.” Freddie blushed. 

 

“Don’t worry about me.” He chuckled. “You weight about three and a half pounds. I’ve carried women that weigh more than you.” He picked Freddie up and carried him up the stairs, placing him down in front of the door. “You get some rest.”

 

Freddie jammed the key in the lock and opened the door quickly. “You too.” He smiled. “Thanks, Ed.”

 

“No problem!” Was all he heard before the engine roared and the car pulled away.

 

Freddie dropped his bag down on the floor, his whole body just aching for his bed, to go to sleep. He took one glance at the gorgeous spiral staircase in the centre of the hall - one of his favourite things about the house, but a nightmare when he was injured. He carefully manoeuvred his way into the lounge and sat down on the sofa: nothing in the house stirred, and he breathed a sigh of relief. At least they hadn’t been waiting for him. 

 

He leant over and carefully pulled off his shoe - his other one had been shoved into his bag when his ankle had been strapped up. He yawned and lay down on the sofa, pulling a blanket over him and over his head to block out the morning sunshine.   
  


* * *

 

 

“Freddie?” He heard, what felt like hours later; he covered his face with his arm as light flooded in from the open door. “Oh, darling, why are you in here?” Jim’s tone softened at the sight of him.

 

“I couldn’t-” His cheeks flushed pink. “I couldn’t get up the stairs.” He whispered. “I’m sorry.”

 

Jim sat down beside him and Freddie moved over to make room, wincing as he did. “What happened, my love?” Jim asked softly, helping him to sit upright. “I was looking for you backstage and Olga told me that you’d had to go straight to A&E but you wanted me to come home. I was worried sick, I stayed up most of the night.” He admitted. 

 

“I broke my leg.” Freddie said shyly. “The top of my left thigh. They had to fix it with plates and screws in surgery.”

 

“I wish I’d been there.” Jim said quietly, holding his hand tightly.

 

“It’s okay, darling. It’s most important that you’re with the children.” Freddie said softly. “I was dancing on it all night. I was overcompensating with my ankle because I was en pointe, and so I ended up injuring that as well. There was no obvious fracture on the scan but they’re still a little wary.” He said sleepily. “I have to go back tomorrow to have the cast on my thigh done. They’re trying to give the stitches a little time to heal first.”

 

“Little soldier.” Jim kissed the top of his head. “Do you want me to take you up to bed? You’ll hurt your back sleeping here.”

 

Freddie nodded, letting Jim pick him up. “Can you grab the painkillers from my bag?” He asked quietly. “It’s sore.”

 

“Of course.” Jim nodded. “Let’s get you rested, darling.”

  
  


 

_ “The world wants to know more about the infamous Mr. Mercury.” _

 

_ “Well, what is it that they want to know?” _

 

_ “Is Mercury really your name?”  _

 

_ Freddie’s laugh was light and airy as he poured another drink. “Not anymore, darling, but it was before I got married.” _

 

_ “You’re married?” _

 

_ “I’ve been married for just under a year. I’ve got two children.” _

 

_ “You don’t strike me as the kind of man who’d appreciate children.” _

 

_ “Then your perception is seriously skewed, dear. I’ve got a little boy who’s fifth birthday is coming up and a little girl who starts nursery soon.” _

 

_ “You clearly adore family life.” _

 

_ “Oh, I do! I always say to my husband that it’s a good job I’m not a woman, because, between my reputation for sex and my love for children, I’d never not be pregnant.” _

 

_ “Plans for anymore?” _

 

_ “Oh, don’t tell my husband, but I’d love a baby one day. We got our little ones when they were a bit older, so I’ve never gotten to do proper babyhood. Maybe when I retire I’ll take a few years out to be a proper househusband. Or maybe, if you could spin me a favour or two, I’ll be a famous musician at the same time.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only got one comment at the end of the last chapter and that makes me sad :( make sure you're commenting if you're still reading!


	24. Conventional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life never seems to slow down, does it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Freddie wants a baby  
> Everyone: Freddie!! Wants!!! A!!!! Baby!!!!!

Freddie sat on the floor of the hallway, notepad balanced on one knee, the other leg straight out in front of him. He had the phone jammed between his shoulder and his ear as he spoke earnestly, writing down occasional details that he couldn’t afford to forget. Jim sat down beside him and placed a mug of tea on the floor between them; Freddie blew him a kiss and smiled. 

 

As recoveries go, Jim considered, this had to be the first time that Freddie had been so willing to relax and let himself be looked after. They were going back for the cast today: Jim had been insistent that he’d come too, but Freddie hadn’t even really put up a fight, just dropped a sweet kiss on his cheek and agreed. He rested his head against Jim’s shoulder as he talked, and Jim wrapped an arm around his waist.

 

They always loved these first few days at the end of a season, the chance to be calm and at ease with one another. It was a few days without the incessant rush of deadlines and trying to fit twenty-five hours’ worth of meetings and rehearsals and physio and training and composing and teaching and conducting into a twenty-four hour day. As Freddie placed the phone back on the receiver, he curled into Jim’s side, arm coming to hug his husband. “That was EMI.” He smiled. “They’re reconsidering.”

 

“I’m convinced you have the whole world wrapped around your little finger.” Jim chuckled. “The interview with Capital really went well, then?”

 

“I think Kenny might have fallen in love with me. Maybe I overdid the charm.” He laughed, closing his eyes contentedly when Jim gently ran a hand through his hair. “A couple more stations have been in contact. EMI are worried that the BBC might want it for Top of the Pops when we haven’t even released it yet. I’ve already said we can’t play the whole thing live.”

 

“I’d like to see you try to do the operatic section.” Jim laughed. “What time is your meeting later?”

 

“Five. I asked if they could come here, just so I don’t have to work my way around trying to get somewhere else. I’m already dreading trying to get to Sarm tomorrow morning.” He yawned and rested his head on Jim’s shoulder. “And my leg’s at two.”

 

“Oh, baby.” Jim carefully picked him up. “You’re tired.”

 

Freddie nodded. He hadn’t been sleeping too well between bouts of painkillers. “I could do with a nap.” He smiled shyly. “But the appointment’s in just over an hour.”

 

“You have time. I’ll drive us, darling, so you don’t have to battle the tube. You can always sleep in the car if you want to.” He carefully placed Freddie down in his big snuggle chair and smiled at the delighted flush that suffused over his cheeks.

 

“You spoil me.” He said softly. “If anyone calls then wake me up. I’m trying to get a lot of boring business calls out the way.”

 

“Baba?” Oliver asked hopefully, wandering over to them. Freddie smiled at the sight of him and opened his arms for his son.

 

“Daddy’s going to have a little sleep, darling.” He lay down, carefully holding Oliver with one arm.

 

“Me too.” Oliver nodded and rested his head against Freddie’s chest. “Tired.”

 

Freddie carefully wrapped the blanket around the both of them; Oliver pressed his special blanket between them, resting it against Freddie’s cheek. 

 

Jim moved quietly behind them, taking his camera from the shelf and loading it up with film. When he was certain his boys were asleep, he stood over from them and took a few photos, carefully laying each out on the coffee table. In his studio he had a whole wall of these little prints, each carefully pinned up, anything from Freddie laying over his piano to them both with ice cream on their noses or Talulah splashing around in the sea. Freddie hadn’t seen most of them, as they rarely spent time together in Jim’s studio; if they were to collaborate on something, it would be in Freddie’s, where he had the room to dance.

 

Oliver faintly heard the click of the shutter and tucked himself closer into Freddie instinctively. His eyes closed and he yawned sleepily, small fingers locked into the light cotton of Freddie’s shirt, grip so close they couldn’t be separated. He loved sleeping next to his Daddy, one of the biggest treats for him; Freddie’s skin was always so warm, and he fell asleep with one protective hand resting on Oliver’s lower back. In those first few days, when empty bedrooms reminded him too much of the family he’d lost, he’d found comfort in sleeping against Freddie’s chest.

 

_ He climbed out of bed, wondering if he could drag a chair up to the sink to get himself some water. The house was too quiet, and it scared him; it reminded him of those awful days when he’d be all by himself with the baby and he’d have to try and play grown-ups for real. He bumped down the stairs carefully, trying not to slip with his little socks on the polished floorboards, and whimpered when he stubbed one of his toes. _

 

_ He grabbed at one of the dining chairs and tried to push it across the kitchen floor, but one of the legs got stuck on a tile and tipped it over by accident. It made a loud crash as it fell, and his heart started beating faster, little fingers trembling with nerves. He tried desperately to pull it upright, but it was too heavy and he was too little. _

 

_ “Bear?” Freddie’s gentle voice came from the kitchen doorway and Oliver instinctively burst into frightened tears. He hadn’t meant to make a noise, to wake anyone up, especially not his Daddy. “Hey, darling, what’s wrong?” He asked gently, crouching to Oliver’s height and holding his arms out for him, trying to prove he wasn’t cross. _

 

_ “I didn’t mean to!” Oliver whimpered, miserable tears painting tracks on his cheeks. “I’m sorry!” _

 

_ “Sweetheart, it’s okay.” Freddie promised. “Come here, darling, let me look after you.” _

 

_ He came over, a little reluctant in case it was a trap, and breathed a sigh of relief when Freddie wrapped him up in a big bear hug and picked him up carefully. “Good boy.” He said softly, wiping Oliver’s eyes gently with the soft pads of his thumbs. “You don’t have to be sorry, darling, it’s all okay.” He said soothingly. _

 

_ Oliver nodded and rested his head against Freddie’s shoulder, breaths still a little shaky and uneven. “I’m thirsty, Daddy.” He whispered. _

 

_ Freddie pressed a kiss to the top of his head and sat him on one hip as he walked further into the kitchen. “What would you like, darling? Some water? Some juice? Some milk?” _

 

_ “I can have milk?” Oliver questioned; it was such an unfathomable treat for him. _

 

_ Sometimes it made Freddie’s heart ache that his little boy saw such mundane things as a sign of care and love when they should’ve been standard. “Of course you can.” He replied softly and brushed a curl of hair from his son’s face. “Would you like it warm or cold?” _

 

_ “Warm?” It came in that same tone of voice again: incredulous. “Warm, please.” _

 

_ Freddie sat him up on the counter so that he could make it. He dropped a kiss on his son’s nose, delighting in how quickly they’d gone from tears to giggles; he would wake up at all hours of the morning to experience this. Jim had heard the crash and groaned, rolling over; it had been up to Freddie to investigate. He placed the pan on the stove to gently heat the milk and then went back to Oliver. _

 

_ “Have you slept well this evening, Bear?” He asked gently. He could already guess the answer, but he wouldn’t presume anything until he was told. _

 

_ His son shook his head reluctantly. “Can’t sleep.” He whispered. _

 

_ Freddie tested the temperature with the end of his finger and carefully poured it into a cup for him. “Would you like to sleep with Daddy and Pop?” He asked softly. _

 

_ Oliver nodded eagerly; then he wouldn’t be alone that night. Freddie took him upstairs to bed and carefully placed him down on the bed between the two men, making sure to block the clock from view so that Jim wouldn’t start to worry when he woke. And he did wake, quickly, looking over the two of them with the softest expression in the world. _

 

_ Freddie fell back asleep that night with his son on his chest and his husband’s head on his shoulder, and he couldn’t have been happier. When he woke up, only two and a half hours later, and his head pounded with the lack of sleep, it all seemed to be worth it as he passed a sleeping Oliver to Jim without waking him. _

 

Freddie woke when a gentle kiss was pressed to his forehead, trying not to startle him. He smiled sweetly up at Jim, rubbing his eyes sleepily. Oliver woke when Freddie moved to sit upright and glanced up at Jim, holding his little arms up. Jim smiled and picked him up carefully, sitting him on his hip in the same way as Freddie had taught him. “Daddy and I have to go and see some doctors about Daddy’s leg, darling, so you get to go and spend the afternoon with your friends at nursery.” Jim told him.

 

Oliver nodded eagerly. “Is Lulah there?” He asked curiously. It was Talulah’s first trial day without either parent there, one of the reasons Freddie had jumped at every phone call they’d received. 

 

“She is.” Freddie smiled as he sat up, grabbing his crutches from where they rested against the coffee table; Jim had thought of everything. “You can play with her.”

 

Oliver’s face beamed with happiness and he nodded, sleepiness forgotten. “Let’s go!” He giggled.

  
  
  


Jim considered it ironic that Oliver was less frightened of hospitals than Freddie was. Freddie had had a series of injuries over the four months that they’d had Oliver; first, it was a partially torn shoulder blade, then the hamstring tear, and now a fracture and sprain. It had been a bad season in terms of injuries - they’d managed three seasons without anything more major than a broken finger, and this time they’d borne the brunt of the worst injuries in the cast. Every time Oliver was told that his Daddy was going to the hospital, it didn’t frighten him in the way that it frightened other children; he was more than used to Freddie coming home with different things strapped up and immobilised.

 

Freddie, on the other hand, was always terrified. He squeezed Jim’s hand nervously as the doctor came back into the room, holding new scan photos; he strained his eyes to look at what they showed. “No need to be so worried, Mr. Hutton.” The doctor smiled kindly and put them up on the lightbox. “The ankle is looking good. I can be certain now that it’s not a fracture. It’s a sprain, and it can be easily treated so long as you keep it strapped up for the next week and follow the appropriate physical therapy at your workplace.”

 

Jim squeezed his hand in response, joy at the outcome. “And the thigh?” Freddie asked quietly.

 

“It’s a stress fracture, but you already knew that. Because of the nature of the surgery, we feel it’s best that we leave it to heal without a cast or a splint, as we don’t want any infections getting stuck down there. The plan is to have you walking solely on crutches for the next two weeks, then we’ll take another x-ray and see if it’s healing as it should be. If it is, it’ll be crutches for another two weeks and then the introduction of a moonboot.”

 

It was better than he’d been expecting - he’d always hated casts. “You’ll have to remember to keep it as immobile as possible. It should be pretty instinctive with the pain. Because you’ve got a plate over the break, only force should pull it out of alignment again. Tell your physiotherapists not to touch it for the first four weeks, to give the site of the incision time to heal. You’re free to remain as active as possible elsewhere in your body during those first four weeks, but obviously don’t go crazy. After four weeks, you can reintroduce gentle massage so long as it doesn’t hurt, and you can work on the lower leg because your ankle will be more mobile.”

 

* * *

 

“Thirty-six times.” Brian tapped his pencil against his notepad. “Thirty-six times in one day. I don’t know what you did to him, Fred, but it clearly worked.”

 

“Thirty-six?” John asked. “That’s nearly four hours of the same song!”

 

Freddie laughed and sat back on the sofa, sipping his tea. “Apparently the switchboard was jammed with people wanting to know when it’ll be released.” He told them.

 

Roger slung an arm around him and hugged him from the side. “It’s magic. It’s fucking magic. We’ve gone from being a one-hit-wonder to a household name because of you.”

 

Brian smiled. “Logistics, though, means that now we have to get this album ready to go. The cover art still needs commissioning, the track listing needs finalising and we still have a couple of bits of tape that need re-recording.”

 

“I can do the cover art.” Freddie said immediately. “It’ll give me something to do while I can’t move.”

 

“And you’re okay to come down to Sarm tomorrow?” Roger checked, giving his hand a squeeze. “The pain isn’t too bad?”

 

“Darling, it’s barely down the road.” Freddie smiled. “And John offered to pick me up.”

 

John nodded. “We need to talk about the shows, too.”

 

“The BBC want Bohemian Rhapsody on Top of the Pops, but we can push it back to when we’ve released the album and Fred’s leg is better.” Brian hummed and checked his paper. “At the moment, we’ve got The Rainbow, The Astoria, Blitz, The Roundhouse and The Rock Garden. The first one starts in five weeks.”

 

“Don’t book anything for the last week of August and the first week of September.” Jim stood in the doorway and smiled, drying his hands on a tea towel. “Freddie won’t be around.”

 

Freddie looked over at him with a confused smile. “Are we doing something?”

 

“I couldn’t possibly tell you.” He smiled and leaned one shoulder against the frame. “All I’ll say is that you might need your passport and a new pair of sunglasses.”

 

Freddie sat up and twisted to look at him properly, face the picture of excitement. “Is that our honeymoon?” He asked hopefully.

 

“You’ll have to find out, sweetheart.” He replied playfully and backed away from the room. 

 

Freddie’s cheeks were pink when he turned back to the other boys with a smile. “Sorry, darling, where were we?”

 

“Track listing.” John said. “We’ve agreed up to Seaside Rendezvous, but we haven’t decided what to end it with, before God Save The Queen.”

 

“Bohemian Rhapsody.” Freddie said immediately. “I want Rhapsody at the end.”

 

“I want Prophet at the end.” Brian crossed his arms. “An unexpected surprise.”

 

“I’m with Fred.” Roger shrugged. “He’s done the most to promote this album, so I think he should have the first and last songs.”

 

Brian wanted to argue, but a look from John told him not to. “Fine.” He agreed. “Can I have Prophet at the start of the B side?”

 

They all agreed on The Prophet’s Song, Love Of My Life, Good Company and then Rhapsody to finish. “Can we choose something fun for the setlist?” Freddie asked hopefully. “Something not ours?”

 

“What did you have in mind?” John asked, scrawling down the new track listing.

 

“Something like- Big Spender. Something iconic.” He blushed harder telling them, biting his thumbnail lightly.

 

“Freddie, you’re married.” Brian frowned. “Surely you can’t sing that kind of thing?”

 

“Darling-” Freddie mocked his frown playfully with a little pout. “I can sing whatever I’d like. It’s the best part of being married.”

 

“Someone’s found their ego.” John muttered and Roger kicked him, still having that protective arm around Freddie.

 

“He’s allowed to have an ego. He’s worked twice as hard as you old ladies and that deserves recognition.” He squeezed Freddie’s shoulder lightly as Freddie started to laugh.

 

He leaned up to kiss Roger’s cheek and pretended to swoon. “My hero!” He fawned.

  
  


_ Rock’n’roll has never been conventional, but then neither is Mr. Freddie Mercury. Bohemian Rhapsody is a masterpiece that we’d all been crying out for, and yet none of us ever knew; it’s a rock opera squashed into six and a half minutes with all the drama of the Eastenders Christmas special and yet all the class of the Ritz. Gorgeous vocals guide us through existentialism, melancholy, hysteria, fright, rebellion and complacency, blended seamlessly with enough piano to be hummed for days. The guitar is frightfully good, brought out by a whisper of bass that promises a piece to remember. _

 

_ After the Capital interview with the lucrative star, we imagined a man with an ego the size of Jupiter. A man overconfident, blatantly and unapologetically homosexual, fighting his way to the top with a bat of the eyelashes and a wiggle of the hips. He seemed to ooze charm in that same manner as an overindulged child, never satisfied though everything in his life is brand new and exciting. _

 

_ So when he comes into my office, hair a little damp around the edges, one leg warmer over his whole leg, hastily apologising for not having time to shower, I almost think I’m in the room with the wrong person. He is refreshingly candid about his music, seemingly not trying to impress but trying to be genuinely honest. He tells me how Bohemian Rhapsody takes someone through the stages of an abusive relationship; not linear in the same manner as the stages of grief, but instead all being experienced in that moment after being struck. He tells me it was written in stages before his twentieth birthday, and I realise that maybe this man isn’t the overindulged star as we perceive him to be. _

 

_ As with Capital, he lights up when asked about his family. He tells me about finding his husband aged eighteen, about his desire for children, about how complete and fulfilled his little piece of the world makes him feel. He tells me an anecdote about recording the operatic section with a little boy balanced on one hip, or a little girl asleep over one shoulder. He’s about as far away from rock’n’roll as someone can imagine, a father of two (and hopefully three) at twenty-six, married, practically sober. _

 

_ When he explains the outfit, it makes sense. A principal for The Royal Ballet, he’s used to presenting a persona for performance, and then also having his true self, and then a blend of the truth. He explains the difference between having what he’s said paraphrased and broadcast on live radio, the difference between being Freddie Hutton and Freddie Mercury. _

 

_ There aren’t that many rockstars like Mr. Mercury this side of the Atlantic, but it seems like London has the appetite for more. _

  
  


“Jim?” Freddie whispered, rolling over to see if his husband was reading or sleeping. “Are you awake?”

 

One eye opened playfully and he smiled, nose practically brushing against Freddie’s. “Yes, darling. Is it your leg?” He asked softly.

 

“No, it’s fine.” Freddie rested his head on the edge of his pillow and smiled sleepily. “I want to tell you something.”

 

“And what would that be?” Jim chuckled and linked his fingers with Freddie’s.

 

“Before I do, I just wanted to tell you now because I didn’t want you to be the last person to know, and I didn’t want to tell people if you didn’t want to because then they’ll ask questions and it’ll be awkward for both of us and I don’t want us to fall out over it-”

 

Jim gently pressed a finger against his lips. “Don’t worry yourself, sweetheart. What is it you want to tell me?”

 

He looked away nervously; the glint of the lamp outside caught his eye and Jim smiled. “I want a baby.” He said softly.

 

“You want a baby?” Jim echoed.

 

“I really do.” He said softly. “Not until we’re older, when I’ve retired for good or maybe a little earlier and I can be home because I can take proper paternity leave-” He started to talk quickly again, trying to justify himself in case Jim was angry.

 

Jim leaned in and kissed him gently, cupping his chin with his spare hand. “Yes.” He whispered.

 

Freddie froze still for a moment; suddenly, the tension seemed to melt away. “Yes?” He repeated.

 

“Yes, sweetheart.” Jim said softly. “Yes, we can have a baby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at his character growth actually telling Jim his dreams I'm so proud of him and he's my imagination


	25. Voices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kids, this chapter is basically 5000 words of sexual tension (and about 1.5k of pure smut), I won't lie to you.

_ Jim sat beside Freddie as he fed the baby; the smile clung to the highlights of his eyes. He wrapped an arm around his waist and kissed his temple lightly, succeeding in achieving a brief happy glance from Freddie: he’d barely looked away from the baby since they’d gotten her. “How is she doing?” He asked softly. _

 

_ “She’s feeding really well.” Freddie whispered. “She’s a hungry little darling.” _

 

_ Jim smiled. “Has everything been okay while I’ve been at work?” _

 

_ “It’s been brilliant. She’s been asleep a lot, but she’s been waking when she’s hungry. I did take her for a meeting up in Notting Hill, but she was asleep for most of it.” Freddie rested his head against Jim’s shoulder and watched as the baby reached out for Jim’s hand. “I think she’s really taking to us.” _

 

_ “Oliver and Talulah?” Jim questioned. _

 

_ “They’re both a little stressed about their auditions. The season starts soon, and they’ve inevitably got their hearts set on White Lodge. Talulah’s convinced that she’s at a disadvantage because Ollie’s in her year group even though he’s almost a whole year older than her.” Freddie shook his head and smiled. “I promised we could do some extra practice when you got home and we wouldn’t wake Summer.” _

 

_ Jim carefully took the baby when she’d finished her bottle and smiled. “Do you think they’ll get in?” He asked. “To White Lodge, I mean.” _

 

_ Freddie stood up but paused. “I don’t want to make any predictions, but they have both put in more work than a lot of their peers. Especially Ollie, because it’s not quite so natural to him.” He brushed his hand through his short hair and smiled again. “I hope so. They need to remember to look like they’re enjoying it even when they’re terrified. They have to prove they’re performers.” _

  
  


Freddie had been adamant that he could still do bathtime; Jim had questioned the logistics, how he’d manage to be on the floor without bending his leg and hurting it. Freddie had shushed him and promised that he could manage it.

 

Talulah giggled when Freddie blew bubbles at her, distracted from the purpose of bathtime by the sheer amount of bubbles that she’d insisted on. “You’re a bubble snowman.” He told her playfully. “A bubble man.”

 

“A bubble woman.” She replied petulantly. Freddie placed more bubbles on her head and laughed. “Daddy!” She squealed and batted at his hands playfully.

 

“A bubble princess.” He kissed her nose and grabbed the beaker from the side of the bath to rinse her hair.

 

Her cheeks pinkened with delight. “Daddy?” She asked sweetly until he raised an eyebrow to question her. “I love you.” She said quietly. “You’re the bestest daddy ever.”

 

Freddie smiled. “And you’re the best Lulah ever. You’re the best little girl in the whole world.”

 

She giggled and blew bubbles at him again. “Why did you choose me, Daddy?” She asked curiously. “Of all the little girls.”

 

“I didn’t choose you, darling, you chose me.” He said softly. “Because when you came to me on that first day, I had no idea who you were. You decided to love me, and I love you.”

 

She smiled. “And why don’t I have a mummy here?” She asked him. “All the girls at nursery have mummies. No daddies ever pick them up.”

 

It was a question Freddie had been expecting from one or the other of the children for a long time. “Some boys want to live with girls and have children with them.” He started. “And so that baby has a mummy and a daddy. I wanted to live with another boy, and so I met your Pop, and so our babies have two daddies. And that’s you.” He kissed her forehead.

 

“I like it.” Talulah smiled proudly. “Nobody believes that I don’t have a mummy.”

 

“We love you just as much as a mummy would.” Freddie promised her.

 

“I know!” She giggled. “I think more. Because I’m allowed ice cream and colouring and I get to play in the garden and with Peaches and my friends can’t.”

 

He ran the water through her hair carefully. “You can have anything in the whole wide world.” He promised her.

 

“Can I be a ballerina, Daddy?” She asked curiously.

 

“Definitely.” He nodded. “You can do some classes like Daddy, if you like.”

 

She nodded excitedly. “I want to be a pretty dancer like you.”

 

Jim chuckled as he walked into the bathroom: he always seemed to underestimate his ability to manoeuvre himself to fit in the most awkward places. Instead of kneeling by the bath, he’d sat in the splits instead in order to keep his leg straight. His hips weren’t quite flush to the bathtub - it had been a good few days since he’d been able to stretch out and warm up properly - but it was clearly an easy position for him to sit in. “This is the world’s longest ever bath.” He teased. “Lulah’s going to shrivel up!”

 

Talulah showed him her fingertips with a giggle. “Daddy says I can be a ballerina too!” She told him excitedly.

 

“Of course you can.” Jim smiled and sat beside Freddie, kissing his cheek gently. “You can be anything in the whole world.”

 

Talulah let her hair be rinsed and Jim quickly dressed her after her bath. “You run upstairs to Bear and Daddy and I will come and do storytime in a minute, okay?” He smiled as she bolted out of the room, little feet hitting the polished floorboards of the hallway as she ran down the corridor.

 

Jim held out a hand to help Freddie up, laughing when he almost overbalanced, and handed him his crutches. “You’re thinking.” He tapped Freddie’s nose playfully.

 

Freddie became suddenly aware that he had gone quiet and smiled shyly. “Yes, darling, I am.” He replied simply and leaned up to kiss his husband, standing on the toes of his right foot. “Kiss?” He asked sweetly.

 

Jim cupped his cheek and kissed him slowly, just lightly suggestive. “What’s going on up here?” He questioned as he tapped Freddie’s temple.

 

He nipped playfully at Jim’s lower lip. “I’ll tell you later. It’s happy.” He told him with a smile. “We need to go and do stories now.”

 

The children could hear the squeal from upstairs as Jim picked him up and kissed him again once more, harder this time, laughing into it. “I’ll have to carry you upstairs anyway, so I’m saving time.”

 

Freddie laughed and wrapped one arm around Jim’s neck, the other holding his crutches. He thought for a brief moment how lucky they were to hear squeals of joy, instead of cries of agony. He thought for a moment how lucky he was to have chosen the right path in life. He thought for a moment about how lucky he was to be with somebody who loved him so much.

 

He looked up at his husband and smiled. Sometimes, he just wanted to hug him so hard that Jim could feel every inch of gratitude and love in his body. “I love you so much.” He said earnestly. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

 

Jim smiled and set him down on the landing, holding his waist until he got a grip on his crutches. “I love you too, princess.” He kissed Freddie’s forehead as his cheeks turned rosy. Jim hadn’t called him that in a very long time. “Am I reading or are you?”

 

Freddie wanted to hug him so badly and he was annoyed by how the crutches stopped him; it was time to devise a new plan. “You.” Freddie smiled, knowing he’d go for the armchair by the bed. He followed Jim into the bedroom, picking the book off the bedside table and handing it to Jim; usually, he would go and sit with the children in Oliver’s bed.

 

This time, he sat himself happily right in Jim’s lap. 

 

“Daddy’s being silly!” Oliver giggled as Freddie kissed his husband’s cheek again.

 

“I’m going to help with the voices!” Freddie said smoothly, resting his head on Jim’s shoulder. “I have to be able to see the book.”

 

Freddie didn’t fool Jim in the slightest; he narrowed his eyes playfully, trying to tell what had made Freddie so happy. He kissed him lightly before flicking to the right page, the page Freddie had so diligently bookmarked the evening before. It was easy to tell who had been reading the night before: Freddie would use a bookmark that matched in some way, had the same colour as the front cover or the same author on, while Jim would fold over the page or leave the book open.

 

After a little while of reading, Talulah was practically asleep while Oliver was looking hopefully over at Freddie. “Cuddle?” He asked hopefully.

 

Freddie leant forward and picked him up carefully, laying back against Jim and holding Oliver close. Jim surreptitiously placed a pillow over Freddie’s lap, trying to ameliorate the possibility of Oliver kicking Freddie’s break by accident; Freddie mouthed a thanks and smiled, running his fingers through Oliver’s hair.

 

It didn’t take long before they were both asleep. Jim placed the book down and Freddie started to laugh, trying to keep it quiet. “I’ve fucked up.” He whispered. “You need to pick up Bear because I can’t carry him, but I can’t hand him to you because I can’t get up.”   
  


Jim started to laugh and covered his mouth quickly. “If you twist so that you’ve got your back to the arm of the chair, you can hand him to me.” He whispered. Freddie did as he was told, carefully handing the little boy over, but he didn’t have the same magic touch as Jim.

 

“Baba?” Oliver asked sleepily, rubbing one eye with his little hand. 

 

“It’s okay, darling.” Jim said soothingly as Freddie stood, nearly overbalancing before he could grab his crutches. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart.” Jim whispered.

 

Oliver yawned and closed his eyes again, resting his head against Jim’s shoulder. Jim carefully stood up and moved over to Freddie so that he could kiss him goodnight - Freddie considered it incredible how quickly Jim could adjust their routine to any injury Freddie picked up, how quickly he could assess what he could and couldn’t do. He smiled as Jim lay Oliver down in his bed, tucking his special blanket under his cheek and pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. He picked Talulah up from where she’d fallen asleep in his bed and carefully laid her down in her crib - she’d be moving up to a bed soon, and it made Freddie’s heart ache a little. He already felt as though his little ones were growing up too quickly.

 

He tried to leave the room as quietly as possible, standing and waiting in the hallway while Jim closed the door carefully. “How do you do it?” He asked. “How don’t you wake them up when you pick them up?”

 

Jim laughed and leaned against the wall. “How long have I known you, darling?”

 

“Just over eight years.” Freddie replied immediately; he’d never forget the handsome Irishman in the bar that night. “Why?”

 

“How many times in those eight years-” He paused to walk closer, lips brushing Freddie’s. “Do you think you’ve fallen asleep on me?”

 

Freddie tried to chase the kiss but Jim pulled back playfully, knowing that Freddie couldn’t tug him in like he usually would. “At least a thousand.” He replied eventually when he realised he wouldn’t get his own way.

 

“And how many times have I put you to bed, do you think?” He teased.

 

“Most nights.” Freddie smiled and tried to kiss him again, but Jim pulled back again. “Stop teasing me!” He whined. He smiled when a hand cupped his cheek and leaned in, kissing him long and slow and luxurious. 

 

He let himself get lost in the feeling of his husband, the thrill of being a little crowded when he was like this, when he couldn’t match Jim’s height and couldn’t push and pull him to where he wanted him to be. “You need to decide what we’re doing this evening, darling, else I’m going to have you in that bedroom in seconds.” He murmured.

 

“You’re injured, Freddie, you know that’s not a good idea.” Jim said and Freddie cursed internally - Jim was so  _ fucking sensible  _ sometimes and whilst it made him a good, practical husband, it also made him so cautious of even touching him when he was injured. 

 

“We can make it work.” He whined. “Please, darling?” 

 

Jim pulled back again, not wanting to frustrate him further. “There’s literally nothing we can do when your break is so close to your hip, darling. You’re not going through surgery again.”

 

Freddie whined petulantly; it had been five days and five days was far too long for him and he definitely couldn’t last four weeks like this. Realistically, it wouldn’t even be four, it would be at least six; Jim didn’t trust him not to rush back into it. Last time he’d broken his leg it had been eight weeks and Freddie, sure as fuck, was not about to go without sex for two months. 

 

“Come on, you sweet little thing.” Jim smiled. “I want to show you something.”

 

He wanted to complain, but he wouldn’t when Jim looked so excited. Besides, Freddie Hutton was nothing if not a master at planning, and he already had a plan brewing in his mind. “Fine.” He said, but his smile made it plain that he was being silly again.

 

Jim took him downstairs to his studio and smiled as he pushed open the door with his hip. It was so rare that Freddie came in here: Jim usually spent his time composing in here, writing swathes of music for the Royal, and he didn’t like to be distracted when he was so focused. They both had their own spaces for their own focus; Freddie could write music or practice solo pieces without being interrupted, could let himself get into his creative mindset without being distracted; Jim spent hours composing songs that Freddie got to hear come to life in orchestra halls and rehearsal spaces and the main stage. “Is it a song?” He guessed.

 

“Not quite. Come in.” He held the door open for him. Freddie carefully made his way into the little room, eyes scanning over the familiar piano, violin on the wall, bookshelf, cello- and then he stopped.

 

All across the wall behind the door were little snapshots of their time together, from those very first days that they met. Each photo brought a memory to life, the smallest little things that he’d all but forgotten; they mapped his progressive happiness, his growing joy, his movement from isolation to community.

 

“They’re in order.” Jim smiled. “So those ones are when we first met, right the way over to yesterday.” He pointed and Freddie followed his finger. He leaned up to look at the first one, and Jim took it down from where it was pinned so that he could see it. 

 

_ Freddie’s eyes didn’t quite meet the camera; he was smiling nervously, fingers trembling a little. He was too scared to say no to the photo. _

 

“I was so frail.” He said quietly. “Fuck, look how bad that bruising was.” He brushed his finger over his lip on the picture. He was so thin, fingers bony where they were clasped around a mug; he could only imagine how hungry he was at that time. “I don’t know how I kidded anyone that I was okay.”

 

Jim wrapped an arm around his waist and chose another photo from a few months later. It was one that Freddie himself had drawn, because he loved the photo so much.

 

_ Freddie laughed as he pulled on one pointe shoe. “You’re catching a ballerina at her least glamorous, darling.” He teased.  _

 

“I can’t believe no one noticed that tear in my tights.” Freddie laughed and kissed Jim’s cheek. “I look happier here.”

 

“That was the night I gave you your first ring.” He smiled. “Just after we’d told each other we loved each other for the first time.”

 

Freddie glanced over the wall and then gasped. “You said you’d keep those hidden!” He pointed at the photos from the night of their engagement.

 

_ He bunched the silk sheets strategically to stop the camera from getting a view of a little too much. “I swear, gorgeous, you’re the worst tease.” He whined.  _

 

_ Jim drank in all that smooth skin, the cut of his hips just visible, the left side of his body completely on show. “You won’t look half as composed when I’ve finished with you.” He teased. _

 

“Nobody will see them in here.” Jim smiled and kissed his cheek. “I think if I could relive any night then it would be that night. I don’t think you’ve ever been happier.”

 

“I don’t think I have.” Freddie smiled then. “You got on one knee for me, and then you got on two. What more could a man want?” He teased.

 

“Slander. Cheapening the best night of my life.” Jim laughed and sat him on top of the piano to kiss him. Freddie dropped the crutches with a clatter and fisted a hand in his hair, kissing him harder.

 

“If you’re not going to put your money where your mouth is, then you have to stop teasing me.” He groaned as Jim kissed down his neck. “You can’t keep kissing me like that.”

 

“You’re the one that keeps trying to jump me.” Jim muttered.

 

“Because you keep crowding me against walls and getting me alone so that you can kiss me like that.” He gasped as Jim nipped slightly at that joint between his collarbone and his neck. “Bastard.”

 

“You move too much. There’s nothing I could do that wouldn’t have you thrusting your hips one way or another.” He pressed another hot kiss to Freddie’s throat and smirked. 

 

“I’m going to have to kill you.” Freddie tilted his head back as Jim worked his lips over his throat. “I can’t have a husband that thinks it’s okay to treat me like this.”

 

“You have a husband that doesn’t want to break you.” Jim laughed and pulled away. “Freddie, you’ll survive.”

 

“You’re sending me mixed fucking messages here.” Freddie complained. “If you refuse to fuck me, you can at least help me shower. I can’t be bothered to run a bath.”

 

“How can I help you shower?” He asked.

 

“I can hardly take my crutches in there. You can be my crutches for me.” He started to laugh. “Just hold me up while I wash my hair.”

 

Maybe none of Freddie’s plans had ever gone better than this. It had taken about two minutes of the shower for Jim to get interested; Freddie didn’t even try to hide how hard he was from all of Jim’s teasing. He leaned back to rinse his hair, Jim’s hands firmly on his waist, teasing him with that long line from his throat to his hips, all exposed for him. 

 

“You look gorgeous.” Jim’s eyes glanced over his closed eyes, lips kissed red, bruised throat, down his chest and the cut of his hips and over his leg, even over the fresh scar on the outside of his thigh. “God, Freddie.”

 

“Don’t you dare.” Freddie warned playfully and turned away from him, twirling on his right foot. “We’re not doing this again.” He reached for the body wash and carefully washed over his body, strategically turned away from Jim.

 

Jim swallowed hard, lost in the faint bumps of his spine and the strong muscles in his shoulders. 

 

“Darling?” Freddie said after a moment, putting on his shyest possible voice. “Could you- could you leave me here for a moment?” 

 

He’d always considered being an actor if things went wrong.

 

“Why, sweetheart?” Jim automatically softened his voice to match Freddie’s shyness. “I don’t want you to fall by accident.”

 

“I know.” His cheeks warmed with how well the act was going, and it just made him appear shyer. “I know, darling, it’s just- you’ve put me in a little bit of a predicament.” He swallowed hard. “And I really need to get off.” He admitted.

 

Most of Freddie’s weight was in his left hand, as he balanced on his right. “Something like this?” He kept the same soft tone as he wrapped his hand around Freddie’s cock and squeezed gently. “Hey, sweetheart?”

 

“Yeah-” Freddie bit his lip as Jim started to stroke his cock, his head falling back onto his shoulder. “Yes, yes- oh, fuck, please-” He hummed out a moan. He fought to hold his hips back, not wanting to displease his husband.

 

“You’ve got me wrapped around your little finger, haven’t you?” Jim kissed the side of his neck. “You know exactly how to get your way.”

 

“You love it.” Freddie smiled, eyes fluttering shut as Jim twisted his hand over the head of his cock. “Oh, that’s so good-” He whispered, bracing himself against the wall with one hand and twisting the other in Jim’s hair.

 

Jim wrapped his arm around Freddie’s waist, holding him flush, back to his chest so he could stand on his right leg. “I love watching you lose control.” He murmured as he nipped at his neck again. “If it wouldn’t hurt you, I’d draw this out for all your teasing.”

 

Freddie was panting a little, cock starting to leak over Jim’s hand. “Get out of jail free card.” He moaned as Jim tightened his hand on the upstroke, knowing a little too well what would get him off quickly. 

 

“You better make it up to me.” His voice was a warning, but Freddie knew it wasn’t anything too serious; sometimes they liked to play with dynamics in bed. “What are you going to do, darling?” He loosened his grip, slowed his hand, ran the heel of his hand over the underside of Freddie’s cock and trailed his fingers lightly over the head.

 

“I want to suck you off.” Freddie resisted the urge to push his hips up, knowing that not only would it hurt, but he would lose the game. “I want you to fuck my throat.”

 

Suddenly, the hand disappeared and Freddie whimpered as Jim leaned over to turn the water off. “You’ll fall over if we stay here. I’m taking you upstairs.”

 

* * *

 

The thing was, Freddie looked unfairly attractive when he had a cock down his throat. He moaned as his thrusts became more frantic, eyelashes fluttering as he tried not to choke; he gripped Jim’s thigh with one hand as his grip tightened in his hair.

 

Clearly Freddie had more imagination than Jim: by sitting on the edge of the bed, he could blow him easily without needing to kneel. “You’re a fucking picture.” Jim panted as Freddie hollowed his cheeks teasingly, and he was- hard, naked, wanting. “Fuck-” He groaned, trying to keep his voice down so he wouldn’t wake the children.

 

This was one of Freddie’s favourite things ever. He didn’t have to think about pleasuring his husband, but could just let him pleasure himself; it made him feel safe inside. He moaned and pulled back a little to breathe, holding onto Jim’s hip. “Shit, darling-” He gasped.

 

“I’m so close-” Jim whispered and bit his lip as Freddie closed his lips around the head of his cock. “Oh,  _ shit,  _ Freddie-” He moaned a little too loudly as he fisted his hands hard in Freddie’s hair.

 

Freddie groaned as Jim came with a muffled shout, spilling onto his eager tongue. He pulled back a little too early and dripped onto Freddie’s lips; Freddie smiled wickedly. “Wanted me to have the extra taste?” He teased.

 

Jim pushed him onto the bed and kissed him, licking into his mouth quickly. “You’re fucking sinful.” He muttered.

 

Freddie pulled away quickly when he heard a little voice, suddenly conscious that they were both completely naked, that Freddie definitely still had come on his face and was also still hard. “Pop?” Oliver asked shyly.

 

Freddie threw him a pair of boxers quickly, wriggling himself under the covers. “Yes, darling?” Jim replied, cheeks flushing scarlet as he dressed quickly and turned to his son.

 

“Pop, there’s a spider.” He told his father. He knew that Freddie was not the right person to go to about insects - he was more frightened than Oliver was a lot of the time. “Can you get rid of it?”

 

“Of course.” Jim smiled and followed Oliver into the bedroom. Freddie rolled over, even the slight drag of the sheets over his cock leaving him biting his lip; he had to be fucking horny if not even talk of a spider and having his husband leave would kill the mood.

 

He brought his arm up, stretching it over his head as his other hand found his cock, returning to the rhythm that Jim had started earlier. He muffled a moan, turning his head to the side and burying his lips to his shoulder as he stroked quickly, twisting his wrist, habit taking over.

 

His eyes closed automatically and his face creased a little as he raced back to where he had been before, pressing his thumb hard against the sensitive seam under the head of his cock. He panted into his arm, moaning his husband’s name quietly, back arching as he tried to get off as quick as he could.

 

He glanced over and tilted his head back into the pillow, whimpering lightly when he saw Jim, leant against the wall beside the door, eyes dark and hungry. “What are you doing?” He asked, voice so small and vulnerable.

 

“Enjoying the show. Couldn’t wait for me?” He questioned, coming forward. 

 

“I need it.” Freddie whispered and licked his lips. “I’m going to come, darling, please-” He gasped.

 

Jim lay beside him on the bed and lightly batted his hand away, replacing it with his own. “Come on, princess.” He grinned. “Come for me.”

 

Freddie’s fingers tightened on Jim’s bicep and he panted into his shoulder. He cried out, far too loudly, as he spilled over Jim’s fingers, white-hot pleasure dashing through his spine and shattering into a thousand pieces in his mind. He panted and moaned into Jim’s neck, whimpering as Jim’s hand stroked him through it.

 

Jim ran a hand through Freddie’s hair, petting him lightly. “Oh, darling.” He smiled and kissed his cheek.

 

Freddie’s back arched and he grabbed onto Jim’s arm, nails digging in as he moaned loudly; Jim watched in awe as those gentle touches made him spill again, painting his stomach with sticky white. “Fuck, Freddie.” He whispered.

 

_ “Fuck.”  _ Freddie whispered and closed his eyes. “What the fuck just happened?”

 

“You just came for like a minute straight.” Jim chuckled and licked his hand clean. “From a fucking handjob.”

 

He laughed a little, letting his head hit the pillow; he felt as though he was floating. “That was incredible.” He whispered. “That was an out-of-body experience.”

 

Jim leaned on one elbow and kissed him gently. “I hope you’re not about to fall asleep on me at half past eight in the evening.”

 

“Not when you haven’t fed me yet.” Freddie smiled, still basking in the glow. 

 

* * *

 

Freddie sat on the kitchen counter and smiled. “Remember when you were asking what I was thinking about?” He asked. “I was thinking about boarding school, because Lulah was asking me about becoming a ballerina.”

 

“Good memories?” Jim asked curiously.

 

“Really good. Because it was like- it was the first time people really paid attention to me. People wanted to know me and watch me. In Zanzibar, everything thought that I was just a boy in a girl’s world, but in India everyone thought I was good. They liked to watch me sing and dance and play piano.” He explained.

 

_ He didn’t really understand why everyone was staring at him. Curly hair hung in his face as he danced, dark eyes all but hidden; he closed them deliberately, let himself get lost in the routine that they’d just learned. _

 

_ He hadn’t really danced like this before, but he felt electric, finally getting the opportunity to string together everything he’d been learning for years.  _

 

_ Run in, turn into fifth, out- out and into third, little syncopation, turn out into a jump- don’t forget the Port de Bras- _

 

_ His body was so tired, so unused to dancing every day, but he persisted regardless. He was here on merit, and he’d prove he was worth it. _

 

_ “Freddie-“ His teacher started, and he momentarily didn’t respond. He’d introduced himself as Freddie to everyone here, finally managing to lose his old name- he was going to be Freddie Bulsara, the ballet dancer, and no one could stop him- _

 

_ “Freddie, that’s simply gorgeous. Have you danced a routine like this before?” _

 

_ A champagne blush, a shy shake of the head, and the biggest smile. _

 

“Is that what got you going?” Jim chuckled. “I’ve heard your boarding school stories.” He teased.

 

“Maybe. I remembered one of those times where we were in the boy’s dormitory and trying to keep it quiet.” Freddie laughed. “You were hardly innocent.”

 

“Definitely not.” Jim chuckled. “I was worse than you.”

 

_ He let himself be crowded in the showers, laughing as he rested his hands on the shoulders in front of him. “We shouldn’t do this.” He whispered. _

 

_ “Do you mean that?” Fingers tilted up his chin and kissed him slowly. “Or is that just God talking?” _

 

_ Jim laughed, biting his lip as the boy sank to his knees in front of him. “Let’s find out.” He whispered. _

 

* * *

 

“Will you come with me to the station tomorrow?” Freddie asked hopefully. “The DCI said that there’s something about Paul I wouldn’t have been made aware of at the last trial. I’m nervous about what it might be.”

 

“Of course.” Jim leaned over and took his hand. “What time?”

 

“Morning. After the kids go to nursery.” He said quietly and Jim nodded.

 

“It’ll be fine, darling, I’m sure it’ll be nothing.” He said soothingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone want to guess what it is???


	26. Cannula

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The news he never wanted to receive.

His knuckles were wet with blood and he was shaking from the pain. The glass from the mirror had cut clean through his skin; the blood dripped from his hand down onto his t-shirt as he sat in the corner of the bathroom, curled in on himself. It had never been a good idea to punch that mirror, and he’d known that before he’d even done it, but he felt so sad and lonely and hurt and confused that he couldn’t stop himself from lashing out.

 

He covered his mouth as he sobbed, smearing blood over his face; he wanted it to drip out of him until he was completely dry, completely clean. He clenched his fist just to make it hurt more, to make it bleed more, wanting every little bit of contamination out of his body.

 

_ At the last trial, medical technology wasn’t so advanced, so we weren’t aware of his illness at the time. Medical records suggest symptoms as early as 1967. _

 

His life was like a spider-web, he thought, each little piece so interdependent on everything else. His life was his family, his loving husband sat on the other side of the door, his children playing together at nursery, his baby-to-be at the back of his mind. His life was his career, was being up on the stage, singing or dancing. His life was reconciled relationships with his family, his mother and father supporting him and loving him.

 

He’d seen the way the world treated people like him.

 

_ Obviously, you were incredibly at risk because of the repeated nature of the assaults. Unless you sought treatment within 72 hours of each one, it’s highly likely that you’ll have a viral load. _

 

They wouldn’t even touch him anymore.

 

His days of morning cuddles were over. His days of having children were over. His days of dancing were over. He’d had his last hug, his last kiss, the last sex he’d ever experience. He felt as though his life itself was coming to a close. No one would ever touch him again, would ever love him again, when he was too much of a risk.

 

He’d be one of those people you saw on the news, wasting away in hospital beds completely alone.

 

_ I’m not saying it’s guaranteed, but you need to have your blood tested as soon as possible. Judging by how high his viral load is, and by how bad the symptoms are starting to become, I wouldn’t be surprised if yours is equally high. _

 

“Freddie?” Jim’s voice was pained on the other side of the door. “I have to go and pick Talulah up, I’m sorry.” He sounded so broken. He had no idea what had happened, what the news was; he was completely in the dark.

 

“Okay.” Freddie’s voice sounded hoarse. 

 

It gave him time.

 

_ We haven’t got a cure yet, and it depends on how bad your load is. If it’s too high, then the drugs won’t work. _

 

* * *

 

“Yes, I know-” Jim was frustrated, clutching onto the phone in the hallway. “Listen, I’m his fucking husband! I’m the next of kin. Whatever it was you’ve told him, he hasn’t taken well to, and I need to know what it was.”

 

“If you could just come down to the station, sir, then we could-”

 

“I’m currently on my own with two small children. I can’t make it down there. I just need you to tell me what happened today.” The house was eerily quiet, the children frightened by Freddie’s disappearance and the harshness of Jim’s tone.

 

“It was just a warning, there was nothing-”

 

“What was the warning?” Jim spat in an exasperated tone. “Please, come on, you have to fucking tell me!”

 

The pause on the other end of the line was long. “The man who assaulted him was HIV positive.” She replied. “And due to the frequency of the assaults-”

 

“Thank you.” Jim replied bluntly and put the receiver down; he knew the rest of what she would say. He sunk to the floor, head in his hands - no wonder Freddie had disappeared. 

 

If Freddie was sick, then he probably was as well. 

 

Anger flared through his veins and he picked up the receiver again, dialling a different number. “Brian?” He asked immediately.

 

“Jim?” He asked. “How are you doing?”

 

“Can you come and look after the kids?” He asked, ignoring the question. “Some shit’s happened and I need to do a couple of things. You can bring anyone you want with you.”

 

“Yeah, sure.” Brian paused for a moment. “Are you okay? Is Freddie okay?”

 

“No.” Jim replied curtly. “No, we’re really not okay. That’s why I need your help.”

 

“Give me ten minutes to get dressed and I’ll be with you.” Brian promised. Jim hung up again quickly, trying to think of a plan. He knew what it was, and he was better able to deal with it now; if he knew the prison system as well as he thought he did, then he’d be able to execute this perfectly. The last thing, then, was to find Freddie.

 

He fingers dialled the last number more slowly, trying to calm himself down a little. “Hello?” A familiar female voice answered and he breathed a sigh of relief.

 

“Jer?” He asked. “It’s Jim. Is Freddie with you?”

 

“No, darling, why?” She asked. 

 

“He’s just had some really bad news. He’s been told he might have a very bad illness, and so he doesn’t want to be at home in case he infects us. If he comes to you, can you give me a call just to let me know that he’s safe?” He tried to keep his voice level, but saying it out loud made it feel a little too real.

 

“Of course.” She promised. “I’ll keep a look out for you.”

 

* * *

 

Two lots of five twenty pound notes folded neatly and tucked into pockets. An official badge, security outside the door, turning a blind ear to what was going on inside.

 

“How long?” Jim asked, leaning over the little table to look at the man in front of him.

 

“How long?” Paul echoed; Jim hated looking at his face, seeing how gaunt he was, how frail he looked.

 

“Don’t play the idiot with me. You know what I’m fucking talking about.” He spat back. “How long have you known?”

 

Paul sighed, looking defeated. “I was diagnosed with GRID in ‘69.” He replied. “While I was with him.”

 

“And you never thought to tell him?” Jim crossed his arms. 

 

“I wanted to, but I knew he’d leave. And then, when he fucking cheated on me, I was hardly going to tell him. It would just sound like an empty threat.” He tried to reason.

 

“As if you’ve never sent any of those.” He said sarcastically.

 

“That was different!” Paul replied immediately. “You could throw away and discard those. I didn’t want him to throw away and discard this, but then I never seemed to be able to tell him.”

 

“And so you just let him live his life, and you were the only one knowing that his viral load might be getting higher and higher?” Jim resisted the urge to slap him; he wouldn’t fall to his level.

 

“It was-” Paul sighed and scratched his nose on his shoulder. “It was a power thing, I guess. Being the only one that knew. It was like I lost the rest of him, but I still had that little bit of power.”

 

“And now you need to get over that fucking power thing because otherwise our children are going to grow up without either of their parents. How many times did you assault him?” He asked.

 

“I didn’t assault him, it was-” Paul started.

 

Jim tipped his head back, eyes unfocused and staring at the ceiling. “I’m not fucking interested in what you think it was. I’m not here to dispute whether you assaulted him or not, because you did. How many times?” He repeated.

 

“We first had sex in the summer of ‘67.” He replied after a while.

 

“Assaulted him when he was a minor, how could we forget that one?” He snapped. “You’re not answering my question.”

 

“We got together in the summer of ‘68 and we pretty much slept together most nights until he left me around Christmas ‘69.” Paul replied. “I didn’t assault him, but we must’ve had sex almost every day in that year and a half. Sometimes more than once.”

 

The number just kept ticking higher in Jim’s head and he rubbed his eyes miserably. There was no way, not unless there was some miracle, that he wouldn’t be sick. “He used to go to the clinic quite a lot.” Paul’s voice was much quieter. “If that helps? I hated it, I tried to make him stop going, but he’d go without telling me.”

 

“What did they do?” Jim asked, leaning forward quickly.

 

“They gave him these pills. I don’t know what they were. I used to try and throw them out, but he’d always find more somehow.” He sighed. “They were something to do with sexual health, at least.”   
  


* * *

 

Jim went through every medicine drawer, cabinet and box in the house; as a dancer, Freddie always had stashes of medical equipment. “Where is it?” He muttered to himself, digging through one of the kitchen drawers. He was blindly hoping for an empty packet, something with a label on that would help him.

 

“What are you looking for, Pop?” Oliver asked. He was clutching Freddie’s teddy instead of his blanket this time, already missing his Daddy. “Can I help?”

 

Jim wanted to snap, but he didn’t; he took a second to breathe. His son might look for things that his eyes glazed over. “Yes, darling, I think you can.” Jim picked him up carefully. “I’m looking for some tablets, but I don’t know where they might be.”

 

Oliver nodded and picked up an old pill packet, holding it up to Jim. “Like this?” He asked.

 

“Exactly like that.” He nodded. 

 

Talulah joined the search at some stage; Jim was just going through the drawers in the wardrobe when he heard a muffled little voice from under the bed. He hadn’t even realised the children had gone under there. “Pop?” Talulah asked as she passed a box to him. “This?”

 

Oliver handed him a different box, the same make but with a different coloured label. “Or this?”

 

_ Pre-exposure prophylaxis,  _ the first label read.  _ Post-exposure prophylaxis,  _ the other read. He sat on the bed and opened the boxes; they were both empty, but the leaflets were intact.

 

_ PrEP decreases your likelihood of contracting HIV by up to 90%.  _

 

_ PEP prevents HIV in up to 95% of cases when administered correctly within 72 hours of exposure. _

 

For the first time that day, Jim felt as though he could breathe. “They’re perfect!” He told them and brought them in for a hug. “Well done, sweetheart.” He kissed Talulah’s head. “Well done, darling.” He kissed Oliver’s.

 

He reached over to the drawer beside Freddie’s side of the bed and opened it quickly, rooting through hair grips and condoms and pens until he found a little box sat at the back. He looked at it, matching the label to one of the empty boxes; PrEP. The doses were labelled, and he’d taken up to the second Tuesday; today was Wednesday.

 

He found it so easy to piece together what had happened, knowing Freddie’s naivety when he was young; he’d been told to take them back when he was seventeen, and he hadn’t stopped since, despite probably not knowing what they were for. He was so trusting at that age that he would do anything he was told to do, and he’d been unwittingly protecting himself ever since.

 

* * *

 

It was early in the evening when the phone rang. Jim was dozing with Talulah against his chest, Oliver tucked up by his side; he was too exhausted to even consider the night routine without having a nap first. He jumped on the first ring, rubbing his eyes wearily before remembering Jer’s promise earlier.

 

He stood and left the children on the sofa, picking up the receiver quickly. “Hello?” He asked sleepily.

 

“Jim?” A voice, an oh-so-familiar voice asked.

 

“Freddie?” He echoed. “Freddie, darling, are you okay?”

 

“I don’t know.” He replied. “I’m in the phonebox outside the hospital.”

 

Jim was already putting his shoes on. Brian had offered to stay the night in case he needed to leave again, and so he could leave him in charge of putting the children to bed. “Did you do anything?” Jim asked, keeping his voice steady and level.

 

“No.” He said. “No, I- about today, they said-” He sounded so nervous, as though he were about to cry.

 

“I know, darling. They told me.” He said softly. “Did you want to get tested?”

 

Freddie was quiet for a long while. “Yes.” He replied in a little voice. “But I’m scared of needles and I don’t want to go in alone.”

 

“I’ll come with you.” Jim said immediately. “We can do it together, darling.”

 

He could almost hear Freddie’s sigh of relief. “Thank you.” He said quietly.

 

Freddie’s hand was clammy as Jim squeezed it gently. They sat together on the bench outside the hospital for a long while, Jim holding him closely. “You shouldn’t touch me.” Freddie whispered. “Just in case.”

 

“I don’t care.” Jim promised, though he really did care. “You’re my husband. It doesn’t change anything.”

 

“It does.” He whispered. “If I’ve given it to you-”

 

Jim leaned in and kissed him softly. “Don’t worry about it until we know for certain.”

 

Freddie nodded. “I trust you.” He sighed. “Should I go first?”

 

“What would you prefer?” He asked, holding his hand lightly as they walked into the hospital wing. “I can go first if you don’t want to.”

 

Freddie paused and then nodded. “Yes, please.” He said quietly. “I’m really scared.”

 

“Can I help you?” A friendly looking nurse smiled at them. “Do you have an appointment?”

 

“No.” Jim smiled and wrapped his arm around Freddie’s waist comfortingly. “We want to get tested for HIV as soon as possible.”

 

“Oh! I can do that for you.” He smiled. “I’ll have to just take a few details first.” He took them over to a little room and sat down opposite them.

 

Jim could feel Freddie shaking beside him; when the nurse left for a moment he kissed his forehead. “You’ll be okay.” He promised. “No matter what the outcome is, darling, I love you and I will love you no matter what.”

 

Freddie rested a tired head on his shoulder. “I just want to be okay.” He whispered.

 

“So-” The nurse started. “I’m Matthew, by the way, if you were wondering. Are you two happy to answer these questions together, or should I do them separately?”

 

Jim let Freddie answer this time. “Together.” He said softly. He didn’t want to be separated from Jim. 

 

“Wonderful! Are you two together? Have you been together for long?” Matthew asked.

 

“We’re married.” Jim smiled. “We’ve been together for about seven years.”

 

He smiled. “Have you been fully monogamous in that time?” He asked. “I know it sounds like a stereotype of gay men, but I have to ask.”

 

Freddie nodded, hand squeezing Jim’s nervously. “Are there any risk factors I should be aware of? Have you been tested before?”

 

“This is our first time.” Jim rubbed his thumb over Freddie’s knuckles gently. “I used to have a lot of casual sex, and Freddie’s a sexual assault survivor. His attacker has been tested positive.”

 

He nodded and made a couple of notes. “Have either of you ever used antiretroviral treatments?”

 

Freddie shook his head and Jim smiled a little awkwardly. “Tell him about the tablets you take at night, darling.”

 

Freddie’s look was inquisitive, questioning how Jim knew about them, but he cleared his throat a little. “They’re pre-exposure pro-” He frowned, not remembering the name. “Prop-”

 

“Prophylaxis?” Matthew filled in helpfully. “I know just the ones. How long have you taken those for?”

 

“Nine years.” Freddie said shyly. “After the first assault. I used to take post-exposure, too.”

 

“That’s fab.” He smiled and turned to Jim. “Do you take the same?”

 

Jim shook his head. “No, but I probably should.”

 

“I can sort you out a prescription for that.” He stood and grabbed a few items from the sterile drawers in the corner. “The test today is just a simple blood test that I’ll send up to the lab for you. It takes about half an hour to forty minutes to get the results.” He rested a cannula and a vial on the table. “I just need a vial of blood each. Who’s going first?”

 

The look on Freddie’s face was horrified; Jim rolled up his shirt sleeve quickly. “I’ll go first.” He said, trying to ignore the anxiety in his own gut. 

 

Matthew cleaned off his arm and Freddie clutched at his free hand. “Sharp scratch.” He said as the cannula carefully entered his skin, starting to draw blood easily. “Nice and healthy.” He smiled. 

 

“Does it hurt?” Freddie asked quietly.

 

“A little.” Jim smiled. “It’s more weird and uncomfortable. You’ve definitely had worse.”

 

“What happened to your leg?” Matthew asked as they waited. “It won’t be worse than that, I promise.” He said soothingly.

 

“Oh, I-” His cheeks warmed and he looked down; he didn’t know why he was still so shy about telling people. “I’m a ballet dancer. I broke it on stage. I sprained my ankle, too.”

 

“That’s an interesting job.” He smiled. “You must be super healthy.”

 

Jim hissed ever so slightly as he pulled the cannula out. “Ridiculously so. He trains almost every day of the year.” He smiled and let him press a cotton ball to his arm.

 

“Done. Freddie?” He offered. “Do you want to get it done?”

 

Freddie nodded, though his hands trembled. If Jim could be brave, so could he. “Quickly.” He said, deliberately looking away as he started to clean off his arm.

 

He deliberately relaxed the muscles in his arm, not wanting to have to repeat the test, and bit his lip as the cannula slipped through his skin. “You’re a natural. Have you had a lot of these at work?”

 

“Not at work.” Freddie rested his head on Jim’s shoulder. “No, I was- I was hospitalised for a little while as a teenager. I had them a couple of times a week.”

 

“What was that for?” Matthew asked conversationally, but Freddie shook his head. It was something he’d tried his best to leave behind in England; it was the one thing he hadn’t spoken to Jim about.

 

“I’d rather not say.” He said shyly. “It wasn’t a good time for me. I was badly anaemic and they were trying to keep my levels steady.”

 

Matthew nodded. “It’s good to see you healthy now.” He smiled honestly and pulled the cannula out carefully, replacing it with a cotton ball.

 

“So I’ll send those up now. You’re both welcome to stay in the waiting room, or if you’d like to go for a walk so you don’t have to put up with how stuffy it is in here, please feel free. It might be worth getting some dinner.”

 

“Let’s go for a walk.” Jim kissed his cheek gently. “We can watch the sunset.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This really does not feel like my Jim at all right it's like what he's not soft 24/7


	27. Bottle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The penultimate chapter of part two!!

Freddie bumped his head sleepily against Jim’s shoulder as they sat atop the hill behind the hospital. “Today has been the worst.” He murmured, rubbing his eyes. 

 

“I know, darling.” Jim said soothingly. “But it’s all going to be okay.” He promised. He wrapped an arm around Freddie’s waist and kissed the top of his head gently before breaking into a smile. “I’ve got a game we can play.”

 

Freddie’s smile was shy as he glanced up at him. “How do we play it?”

 

“So, we’ve both decided we want a baby.” Jim smiled at the thought of it. “We’re going to design our perfect baby. So, on the count of three, you have to decide what gender you want.”

 

Freddie’s eyes came alive with excitement; Jim always knew how to choose the topics that would cheer him up. “Okay, so- three, two, one!” Jim said quickly.

 

“Boy.” They both said at the same time and Freddie started to laugh. “You want a boy, too?” He asked excitedly.

 

“I do!” Jim chuckled and kissed him softly. 

 

“It’s not the first time you’ve said that to me.” Freddie smiled and cuddled closer. “To have and to hold.” He said quietly.

 

“From this day forward.” Jim whispered.

 

“For better, for worse.” Freddie smiled and took Jim’s left hand, smoothing a thumb over his wedding ring.

 

“For richer, for poorer.” He interlaced their fingers.

 

“In sickness and in health.” Freddie smiled a little wryly.

 

“To love and to cherish.” Jim cupped his cheek and kissed him softly.

 

“‘Til death do us part.” Freddie wrapped both arms tightly around him. “What would you call our son?”

 

It was the first opportunity they’d had to name a child themselves; Oliver and Talulah had both known their names by the time they’d come to live with them. Freddie was buzzing with excitement at the idea of getting to be a proper father from the beginning this time, instead of picking up the pieces of someone else’s bad job; he maybe loved the idea of being a househusband even more than the life he already had.

 

“That’s a trick question.” Jim smiled. “What would you call our son?”

 

“Theodore.” Freddie replied immediately. “Shortened to Teddy.”

 

“Then we’d have Teddy and Bear.” Jim laughed. “I think Theodore sounds wonderful.”

 

“Do you actually like it or do you like it because I like it?” Freddie asked, knowing all his tricks. “What would you call our son?”

 

“Maybe Dylan.” Jim said softly. “But I don’t like it as much as you like Theodore.”

 

“You have to like it too.” Freddie insisted. “He’s not just my baby.”

 

“I do like it!” Jim promised, kissing him again when he went to protest. “I love it, darling. Besides, you’re playing mummy.”

 

“Of all people, Jim Hutton-” Freddie was getting so playful, as though he’d completely forgotten where they were; Jim thought it was good to see him loosen off a little. “I wouldn’t have thought that you’d subscribe so horrendously to gender roles.”

 

Jim laughed and rolled his eyes. “I more meant that you’ll be the one at home. At least that’s what you wanted before, wasn’t it?” He checked.

 

Freddie nodded and smiled. “I’d like to be the one at home. I just- I love being surrounded by children. I’d get to have Teddy during the day while I was doing meetings or recordings, and then I could train in the evenings. If Lulah’s as serious about it as she is now, I could do some stuff with her.” He smiled widely. “I think I’d enjoy having a season off, for once.”

 

Jim pressed a kiss to his cheek and stood up, holding out his hands to help Freddie stand up. He supported him while he grabbed his crutches and carefully smoothed out his collar when he stood facing him. “It’d be a good way to relax.” He agreed. “I know you’ve always found the children very relaxing.”

 

Freddie smiled and nodded. “Although they’ll need you at home to help with homework. I’ll be no use.”

 

“You’re a dancer and I’m a musician, Fred. We’ll have to call Brian.” He laughed. “I don’t think my maths is any stronger than yours.”

 

“I think I’m okay at biology.” He conceded. “And art, obviously, and probably English. But I’m hopeless when it comes to physics or maths or anything like that.”

 

“Well, if they go to White Lodge…” Jim teased and Freddie stopped to elbow him.

 

“Dance school isn’t a write-off, you know. You don’t just sit around in tights all day, you do actually have to do classes.” Freddie pouted. “White Lodge is a very established institution.”

 

“I know.” Jim chuckled and held the door open for him. “Isn’t it all a bit pointless, though, when you all go into professional contracts?”

 

“A contract isn’t guaranteed at the end of it. It’s entry by audition only.” He shrugged and sat in the waiting room. “Besides, it comes in helpful later. When you’ve got big plans.” Freddie smiled knowingly and Jim arched an eyebrow playfully.

 

“What are your big plans, Mr. Hutton?” He questioned. 

 

“I need to get a degree for my plans. I need to wedge that somewhere into my schedule.” He chuckled. “It might not go to plan if Queen works out, anyway.”

 

“What would the degree be in?” He asked curiously.

 

“Company management. I’m sure you can work out the rest.” He turned quickly when he heard their names called.

 

“Are you two coming in together or separately for results?” Matthew asked. 

 

Freddie glanced at Jim and smiled shyly. “Together?” He asked softly.

 

“Together.” Jim agreed, standing up and heading for the side room.

 

“Originally, they just wrote Mr. Hutton on both these envelopes. I had to send them back to be properly labelled.” Matthew smiled and handed them both envelopes with their names on. “I haven’t seen the results, but I hope it’s good news.”

 

Jim opened his envelope, fingers trembling a little, dreading what the news could be inside. He had just started to read the first sentence;

 

_ Dear Mr. Hutton, _

 

_ Thank you so much for coming to us today in regards to- _

 

“I’m negative!” Freddie shouted, throwing his arms around Jim, launching into his lap, ignoring the pain that flared through his hip. “I’m fucking negative!” He started to laugh, so relieved, as Jim quickly scanned the rest of his paper.

 

_ I’m pleased to say that your blood test came back HIV negative. _

 

“Me too.” Jim whispered, wrapping his arms around Freddie tightly. “We’re okay, darling, we’re okay!” He repeated, joining in Freddie’s laughter, more for himself than for anyone else.

 

“He didn’t get me.” Freddie said softly, resting his forehead against Jim’s. “He can’t get me.”

 

“He didn’t get you, and he didn’t get me.” He said softly. “We’re all okay.” He cupped Freddie’s cheek and kissed him gently.

 

Freddie flopped down into his own chair and smiled. “I’m tired now.” He laughed.

 

Matthew smiled at them both. “I’m so glad it’s good news.” He said happily. “Before you go, I’ve got new prescriptions for both of you. Freddie, I checked your records and you were on an old, experimental version of PrEP. I think you’re on that version because you were one of the first people to try it. It’s nothing to worry about because it’s clearly worked for you, but I’m just going to update it to the new version. Jim, I’m giving you the same.” He pushed the paper across the desk. “You’re free to go.”

  
  


_ Jim’s skin was so warm as Freddie nestled closer, curled up tiny, safe and protected. After all these years, sixteen years together and ten years of marriage, he still favoured sleeping tucked under the arm of his husband. Warm breaths fluttered through his hair as Jim curled around him instinctively, protecting him in the same way he’d protect one of the children; Freddie smiled sleepily. _

 

_ He rolled over at the first cry from the baby, rubbing his eyes. He picked him up gently and sat up in bed, gently stroking his son’s cheek. “Hello, darling.” He whispered, rocking him lightly. “Oh, you’re a little cold, aren’t you?” He said gently, grabbing the extra blanket that he’d laid over the arm of the Moses basket and wrapping it carefully around the baby. _

 

_ The baby started to calm, but he was still a little restless; Freddie smiled and stood up, heading down to the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle from the fridge - the habit of making them before bed saved the half an hour for the water to cool - and stood it on the warmer, lightly bouncing the baby to help keep him calm. _

 

_ Jim had taken to referring to him as a “mother duck”, insisting that the children were more like ducklings than chicks. Even thinking about the compliment made his cheeks warm - he loved to feel that he was doing a good job. He’d quickly adjusted to having a baby, to being awake every two hours, balancing the baby and meetings and training; he’d strangely come to love this time, in the middle of the night, just the baby and him. _

 

_ He tested the bottle on the inside of his wrist and picked it up quickly, carrying both baby and bottle back to bed. He sat with the covers bunched around his waist, the baby cradled in his left arm, the bottle in his right, and smiled as tiny hands came to grab for the bottle excitedly. “Patience, sweetheart.” He laughed, taking off the cap and letting the baby latch on. _

 

_ “Someone’s hungry tonight.” Jim smiled as he rolled over toward his family.  _

 

_ “Growth spurt, I think.” Freddie’s cheeks were rosy with happiness. Jim almost couldn’t believe how much joy the baby had brought him; he’d heard all of those horror stories about failing to adjust to family life and had been a little worried. Freddie, though; he’d taken to it naturally. “Sorry for waking you, darling.” _

 

_ “Don’t apologise.” Jim smiled and sat up next to him. “He’s as much my son as he is yours, and most of the time you’re so quick that I stay asleep.” _

 

_ Freddie smiled and rested his head on Jim’s shoulder. “He’s gorgeous.” He said softly. “Little Teddy.” _

 

_ “Can I have a go feeding him?” Jim asked hopefully. “I feel bad because you do almost all of the work.” _

 

_ Freddie chuckled. “I really don’t mind.” He promised. “But of course you can. I’ll just wait until he takes a break.” He carefully adjusted his position so the baby was a little more upright. “Don’t be surprised if he doesn’t finish the bottle. He sometimes doesn’t eat as much at night.” _

 

_ When the baby moved away, Freddie quickly righted the bottle to stop it from spilling. He handed him over to Jim, unable to stop his smile at the sight of his husband with the baby. He seemed to have a natural softness about him whenever he held Teddy, even more so than he had with the other children. “Don’t let him swallow air.” Freddie murmured as he passed over the bottle. “It makes him grumpy.” _

 

_ Jim chuckled as Teddy reached for the bottle again. “He lets you know, doesn’t he?” He murmured as he started to feed him again. “It makes me sad I miss out on these things.” _

 

_ “It’s all very intuitive.” Freddie nodded and watched his son. “You could always take some of my leave, you know. Because I’ve got the whole season off, I’m only using about thirty-eight weeks of it before it’s summer break anyway. That’s fourteen weeks you could have with us.” _

 

_ “I get the standard two as well that I can add on.” He murmured. “And then I can have another thirteen unpaid. That would be twenty-nine altogether.” He leaned over and kissed Freddie’s forehead. “Would you mind that? I thought I’d be okay with weekends and evenings, but I miss you both too much.” _

 

_ “I’d love that.” Freddie smiled and kissed his cheek. “You know I love spending time with you.” _

  
  


“Daddy!” Oliver shouted as soon as they walked in through the door. He ran for his father, hugging his leg tightly; Jim thought it was endearing until he saw the look on Freddie’s face.

 

“Not that leg, darling!” Freddie laughed, though it sounded a little winded. “Ouch!”

 

Oliver quickly let go, looking down nervously. “Sorry, Daddy.” He said shyly.

 

“It’s okay, darling.” He smiled. “Why are you awake?”

 

“A certain little monster was refusing to go to sleep until he saw his daddy.” Brian came out of the lounge, smiling at both of them. “Talulah went down easily, but Oliver wanted to stay up.”

 

Freddie chuckled and sat down in the armchair in the kitchen. “Come here, sweetheart.” He held his arms out for Oliver and picked him up, carefully cuddling him. “I love you.” He told the little boy. “A very lot, okay?” He said playfully. “You don’t have to worry about your daddy.”

 

“I love you too.” Oliver smiled and settled into the hug. “Daddy, I’m tired.” He said softly.

 

“Me too, Bear.” Freddie chuckled. “It’s been a long day, hasn’t it?”

 

“Very long.” Oliver nodded and closed his eyes. “I got a sticker today, Daddy.” He smiled.

 

Freddie gasped. “What for?” He asked excitedly.

 

“I helped Miss Honey tidy up.” He smiled. “I put all the games in the boxes and all the pencils on the tables and everybody’s books in their drawers.”

 

“Where’s that sticker now?” Freddie asked, smiling at how good his son was growing up to be. 

 

“It’s on my jumper, Daddy, but I’m in my jammies now.” He glanced up at his father. “Why?”

 

“I think we should put it up on the fridge.” Freddie smiled. “Next to that lovely drawing Lulah did of all of us.”

 

“Yes!” Oliver squealed. “I’ll go and get it!” He ran upstairs and Jim came into the kitchen as the front door shut. 

 

“Miss Honey wrote us a little note.” He smiled and handed the paper over to Freddie. “Read this.”

 

_ The two Mr. Huttons, _

 

_ That sounds like the punchline of a joke! I thought I’d just pen you a little note on your two delightful children as they approach the end of the school year. I have been so impressed with Oliver’s progress this year - when he first came to me, he barely spoke and he had delays with pronouncing certain sounds, and now he’s getting so confident with his reading. He tells me all about the bedtime stories you read to him (and he tries to copy your voices!). Oliver is a complete joy to have in the classroom, he’s always so helpful and so friendly towards everyone - you should be very proud to have brought him up so wonderfully! _

 

_ I’ve only known Talulah for the last couple of weeks, but she is truly a little social butterfly and she’s already little miss popular. The other day, we were talking about jobs we’d like to have when we’re older, and she told everybody that she’s going to be a ballerina “just like her daddy”; I don’t think I’ve ever seen a little girl that loves her place in a family more. She’s so wonderfully confident, which is just incredible to see, especially considering her background. _

 

_ I think you’re both doing absolutely wonderfully as parents. Seeing the change in your children has been such a joy, and I must attribute it to your parenting: you’ve given them a place where they feel so loved and safe that they’ve been able to blossom. I think you could give other parents a lesson! _

 

Freddie smiled over at him. “That’s the sweetest thing ever.” He laughed and watched as Oliver came running back down the stairs.

 

“Here it is, daddy!” He said excitedly, handing it to his father.

 

“Where shall we put it?” Freddie chuckled. “Here?” He suggested. The fridge was pretty full of drawings, stickers and awards from both children; Freddie loved to display everything to prove how proud he was of them both. It was a joy he’d never experienced as a child, and one he had found always made them smile.

 

“Here!” Oliver stood on his toes and pointed to the tiniest space.

 

“There it goes.” Freddie carefully stuck it in the space. “Okay, darling, you run up to bed and Pop and I will be there in a minute.”

 

“Sometimes I just love to watch you play Daddy.” Jim smiled and leaned in to kiss him. “You’re such a natural with them. I can’t wait to see you with a baby.”

 

Freddie rested a finger against his lips. “You’ve got to keep quiet about it.” He said with a smile. “Because the kids don’t know yet, darling. We’ll tell them when they’re a little older.” He started to laugh then. “Besides, you make it sound like you’re about to get me pregnant, and that’s going to confuse them in biology.”

 

Jim laughed and picked him up. “Come on, Daddy. It’s bedtime.” He kissed him, lips soft and warm, and Freddie smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is everything you wanted and more, kids.


	28. Splash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A relaxed day.

“I’m literally going to break my fucking neck.” Freddie shook his hair from his face, but the softness around his eyes suggested a gentle laughter. “You won’t fuck me when I’ve broken a leg, but this is okay?”

 

“Oh, stop whining, princess.” Jim kissed his cheek. “It’ll make the kids happy.”

 

“If that’s all it takes, I’m going to use that excuse next time you won’t blow me.” He muttered. “It’ll make the kids happy.”

 

“Get your mind out the gutter.” Jim laughed. His arm was tight around Freddie’s waist as they carefully made their way towards the fountains. The splash park had been Freddie’s idea, a veritable luxury in the thirty degree heat, and he’d promised to sit and look after their bags while the children played with Jim. Together, though, the rest of his family had planned logistically how they could get him into the water without requiring crutches or breaking anything else. “It’s wet, don’t slip.”

 

“God, I would never have known that.” Freddie said sarcastically, and then burst out laughing. “I’m scared for my damn life, darling, I’m trying my best.”

 

“Just-” Jim laughed as he picked Freddie up. “Straighten your legs. I’m going to sit you down.”

 

Freddie let himself be placed between two fountains; he couldn’t deny that the spray felt good against his warm skin. “This is nice.” He hummed as Jim sat beside him. “Where are the monsters?”

 

Oliver jumped out from behind him with a roar and Freddie startled. “Bear!” He laughed and splashed his son. “What have you done with Lulah?”

 

Oliver squealed and laughed. “She’s hiding!” He told Freddie. “She’s going to scare you, Daddy!”

 

Freddie laughed and ducked as Oliver splashed him. He placed a hand over the fountain next to them, the water spraying through his fingers and falling over them both in large droplets. “I think you’re scarier than Lulah.” Freddie said playfully. “If I can survive your scares, I can survive anything!”

 

Jim held up Talulah so that she could push the bucket; unbeknownst to Freddie, Jim had sat him perfectly under the firing line so that he would be soaked. “Daddy!” She shouted as she pushed hard, water cascading down a funnel and splashing all over Freddie and Oliver.

 

“Fuck!” Freddie squealed. “Oh, that’s so cold!”

 

Talulah giggled and ran towards him, throwing her little arms around his neck. “I got you!”

 

“You got me!” Freddie chuckled and hugged her tightly. “Oh, Lulah, I’m soaked!”

 

Oliver was giggling incessantly; he’d been in on the whole plan to distract his daddy. “Pop thought we should get you back.” He told Freddie. “He said we had to get you all wet.”

 

“Guilty as charged.” Jim knelt beside him and kissed his cheek. “I’ve got to say, a white t-shirt was an awful idea.”

 

“It felt wrong to just wear swimwear in a kid’s park. It’s a bit indecent.” He chuckled as the kids ran through the fountains around them. 

 

“I don’t think white gave you the modesty you were looking for.” Jim let his eyes rake over his husband’s figure, humming with delight.

 

“Oh, come off it. You’re not complaining.” Freddie rested his fingers lightly against Jim’s cheek as he leaned forward a little. “Kiss?” He asked hopefully. He’d started asking recently when they were in public, not wanting to push Jim into anything he didn’t want to do in front of the children or other people; the soft, hopeful tone of his voice always touched Jim’s heart. He leaned in and kissed him softly, cupping his cheek.

 

“You taste like chlorine.” He murmured and Freddie laughed. 

 

“Oh, darling, I wonder why?” He teased. “I taste like chlorine and you can see my nipples, what more could you want?” He giggled.

 

“Pop!” Oliver ran over. “Pop, will you come on the slides?” He asked hopefully. “Lulah and I want to go on the big slide!”

 

Freddie smiled. “Go on, darling.” He kissed Jim’s cheek. 

 

Jim stood up and took Oliver’s hand, and Oliver looked back at Freddie shyly. “Can Daddy come too?” He asked hopefully.

 

Jim glanced back at him. “Freddie?” He asked. “Can you come?”

 

He was healing well: it had been two weeks, and so the ankle support was off and the surgery site had healed. He considered for a moment the potential force on his leg, but swimming was comparatively light, and he could always come out the water if he started to hurt. “If you help me.” Freddie smiled. “Might be easiest if you just carry me to the slide.”

 

“I can do that.” Jim easily picked him up, “It won’t hurt your leg?”

 

“It shouldn’t do. I’ll stop if it does.” He promised and kissed Jim’s cheek. “I don’t have to use that leg to swim anyway.”

 

“Thank you, Daddy!” Oliver said happily, taking them over to where Talulah was waiting for them. 

 

“You got Daddy!” Talulah hugged Oliver happily. “Thank you!”

 

Freddie laughed. “Who’s going with who?” He asked the children. 

 

“I want to go with Pop!” Oliver said quickly. “And Lulah wants to go with you, Daddy!”

 

Freddie sat at the top of the slide and held out his arms for his daughter. “Come on then, sweetheart.” He smiled. “Let’s go!”

 

* * *

 

“Poor things.” Freddie quickly unlocked the door and held it open for Jim, who was managing to balance both children, fast asleep, on each shoulder. “We tired them out.”

 

“It’s the sun.” Jim chuckled. “The sun, the adrenaline, and all that running around.”

 

“Are you going to put them down for the night?” He asked. “Or just for a nap?”

 

“I doubt they’ll sleep through. Besides, they’ll need a proper bath before bed.” Jim hummed. “I’ll put them down for a nap.”

 

“Put the fan on. It’s warm up there.” Freddie kissed his cheek and walked into the kitchen, precariously balancing on his right foot and left crutch to grab some glasses from the cupboard. He poured two lemonades and carefully added ice to them, humming to himself as he took a gulp from his.

 

Sometimes, Jim loved to just stand back and look at his husband. The wet t-shirt still clung to him, and hair curled at the nape of his neck, heavy with excess water; it exposed the taper of broad shoulders, down to that slender, supple waist that he loved so much. He watched the slow movement of his throat as he swallowed, the way the muscles of his arm flexed and relaxed as he held onto the counter to balance on one foot. “You’re so gorgeous, darling.” Jim hummed, walking over to him. “Happy looks good on you.”

 

Freddie turned to him and smiled. “Relaxed looks good on you.” He replied, kissing him lightly. “You’re all sunshine sated.”

 

Jim chuckled. “Do you want to go out into the garden for a while? I’ve put the baby monitor on in case the kids wake.”

 

Freddie nodded. “Can’t get down the stairs, though.” He chuckled.

 

Jim smiled and picked him up quickly. “I’m going to end up with shoulders like yours.” He chuckled. “Grab the drinks, darling.”

 

He carried him down to their pool and smiled. “Do you mind if I pull back the roof?”

 

“Go for it.” Freddie slipped himself back into the cool water as the sun flooded the room, hot on his skin. “I hope I don’t get too tanned.”

 

“I like it when you tan. You look like you’re glowing.” Jim took his shirt off and climbed in beside him.

 

“The Royal get iffy about casting me for white roles. It’s bullshit.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t mind it personally, but I don’t want it to damage my chances at the beginning of the season.”

 

“It won’t.” Jim pulled him in and kissed him slowly. “You’re the assoluta, darling, there’s nothing they can do to not cast you now.”

 

Freddie wrapped his arms around his husband. “Maybe you’re right.” He kissed him again. “Let’s find out.”

 

Jim finally let his hands run down that body, allowed himself to feel the power under his fingers of those tough muscles; kissing him was a luxury after being denied privacy with him all day. He cupped his chin as they kissed lazily, smiling into it.

 

Freddie squealed when Jim splashed him, flailing back for a moment; he scowled playfully. “You’ll pay for that, Hutton.”

 

“Will I?” Jim teased. “Oh, honey, I don’t believe you.”

 

Freddie pushed off the other side and pinned Jim to the edge of the pool, wrists to the cool tiles. “You’ll see.”

 

“Make me.” Jim leaned closer, openly teasing him, tempting him, pulling him in. 

 

He tried to pull one of his wrists free, but Freddie pinned it back with a smirk. “Deal.”

 

 

 

END OF PART TWO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so excited for part three kids


	29. Salt Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trial continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll warn you that this chapter is a bit of an uncomfortable read in the middle but that's deliberate

PART THREE

 

 

The tear tracks on his cheeks had just about dried. 

 

Jim tilted his head back, loosened his tie with one hand, let his hair fall back from his face; it was too hot for a suit. Freddie’s cheek was warm in his lap, his breath a little shaky and tear-tainted. He’d worn himself out crying.

 

Fury bubbled at the base of his spine; for the first time since his marriage, since the beginning of their damn relationship, Jim had the urge to lash out. He wanted to walk back into that courtroom and smack the defendant until the sly smile had been wiped clean off his face. A little part of him wanted to sort this out with no courtroom, no lawyers, no judge, no jury, but a clean and old-fashioned bar fight; he wanted to punch him until he forgot his own name. 

 

Freddie was doing so well, but it was inevitable that the questioning would get to him. It was the cross-examination, those tactless questions from the defendant himself - how the hell that was legal, Jim would never understand - that exposed everything he had tried so hard to forget. It was the shame, it was the embarrassment, it was the humiliation that had brought him to tears. It was that small, shaky voice asking for a break as he stood in the witness stand, and the desperate tears that had come as soon as Jim had wrapped his arms around his husband.

 

_You’ve managed to achieve everything you wanted. You got a husband, and you got children. Clearly, it wasn’t so bad if you’ve managed to live a normal life?_

 

“Two minutes.” Jim was warned, but the anger flared up again. His husband had had a panic attack so bad that it had put him to sleep, and yet they expected him to be back out on the stand in two minutes to perform like some fucking performing monkey to expose all of the things he’d been through.

 

“Can you give us a fucking minute?” Jim spat. “He’s not ready to go out.”

 

“No can do, sir, we’re on a timeline.” The attendant was too suave, too evasive; he didn’t care in the slightest about the way they were ruining Freddie minute by minute. 

 

“Fuck off.” Jim snapped. “You’ve no fucking respect. We’ll be out when we’re ready.”

 

_Have you ever been drugged and beaten black and blue before? Have you ever cried yourself to sleep wondering what you did in another life to deserve this? Have you ever sat and hoped and prayed that maybe one time, after being beaten as a child, left on the streets and then abused by the man that’s supposed to love you, you might finally get what you want?_

 

Freddie stirred and Jim gently ran his fingers through his hair. “Shush, darling.” He treated Freddie as though he were one of the children; sometimes he found it calming. “You can rest, my love, don’t worry. Sleep all you need.”

 

_My husband should never have had to clean up the mess after I’d been raped and broken all over again._

 

His breaths slowed and evened out over Jim’s lap and Jim let his eyes close tiredly. He was facing his own questioning, and the idea of him made him want to crawl out of his own skin. The way that they’d treated Freddie, how awfully detailed and invasive the questions had been, how they’d metaphorically stripped him to the bone when they could see he was getting upset, how they’d put up those photographs he’d never needed to see; that was how they treated someone labelled _damaged._ He would be the test of how they treated someone ‘normal’.

 

_You sold yourself for sex. You weren’t fussy, and I paid you well enough in shelter and food._

 

“Jim?” Freddie asked quietly, eyes heavy with sleep. “God, fuck, I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I acted like that-” He was so ashamed of himself, his behaviour, his actions, his past and his present and his future. “I’m so sorry, Jim, I really am-”

 

“It’s okay, darling.” Jim took his hands as he sat upright. He wanted to stave off another panic attack if he could. “They were awful to you, Freddie, I’m so proud of how much you managed to get through.” He pressed a kiss to his forehead and didn’t miss his wince away from the contact.

 

_It wasn’t like that! You sold me because you wouldn’t loan me my own money to pay for the demo. You said you needed collateral. You used me as an enterprise._

 

“I’m sorry.” Freddie said again, voice small and weak. “I can’t go back out there again, please. Please, I can’t- I don’t want to do this anymore-” His eyes brimmed with tears again.

 

_All I wanted was someone to love me but nothing was ever good enough. I was never good enough for you._

 

“You have to, Freddie.” Jim cupped his cheek gently. “Darling, I know it’s hard, but we have to keep going.”

 

“I can’t-” Freddie’s voice was increasing in pitch, getting more hysterical and frightened. “Jim, please, I can’t, I’m not strong enough-”

 

“You are.” Jim cupped his cheek. “I’ll come up in the stand with you, darling, I’ll hold your hand if you need it. I’ll slap the prick if it’ll make you feel better.”

 

“I’m not convincing them. They all think I’m lying.” Freddie whispered. “I can’t go through them telling me nothing happened. I just want it all to be over.”

 

_Jim’s hand was warm and familiar in Freddie’s as he stood back up in the stand; Jim could feel him shaking and squeezed his hand comfortingly. “Jim Hutton, you’re here on the condition that you do not speak to or on behalf of Freddie.”_

 

_“Understood, your honour.” Jim replied and tightened his tie with his spare hand. “I’m only here to provide emotional support.”_

 

_“Freddie, let’s pick up where we left off. I’d like to discuss your life since the attempt on your life.” The judge was more gentle now, and Jim could feel him soften; it was an easier topic to talk about. “How has your life been?”_

 

_“Easier as I get older, your honour.” Freddie replied shyly. “I underwent a lot of therapy before I reached twenty. I had a lot of mental health issues relating to problems with my self-image and self-worth. A lot of behaviour I had buried in my teenage years came back as coping mechanisms, and not healthy ones.” He glanced over at Jim quickly; the warmth of a body next to his made him feel less lonely on his stand, as though someone else was on his side._

 

_“What problems would these be, Mr. Hutton?” A member of the jury asked._

 

_“I-” Freddie glanced down and took a breath. “Anxiety and paranoia. I was-” The words struggled in his throat. “I was hospitalised as a teenager for an eating disorder, and it was my first instinct to use as a way to cope with everything once the drugs had worn off and I had to face everything.”_

 

_“Would you say that’s continued to affect you as you’ve gotten older?” They replied._

 

_“Yes.” Freddie replied immediately; he glanced over to Jim and smiled a little at his comforting smile. “In good ways and bad. It made adopting our children difficult, because it was like proof that I couldn’t maintain stable mental health for long periods of time. But, at the same time, it means I can help our children. They’ve been in similar situations to me, and I know everything that might be upsetting them or hurting them.”_

 

_“Why didn’t you prosecute Mr. Prenter at the first opportunity you had, when you could’ve gotten closure?”_

 

_“Closure is bullshit.” Freddie spat, immediately defensive at the accusatory tone. “Closure is a false construct. Closure won’t wipe away the memories or stop me from scrubbing my skin raw after sex. Closure doesn’t stop panic attacks and flinching when people touch me and the incessant need to put everyone before myself to the point of getting sick.” He swallowed and squeezed his hands on the balustrade. “I wasn’t ready to say everything then. I hadn’t even told my husband about the prostitution, or the anorexia, or the problem with cleanliness.” He ducked his head down and squeezed his eyes shut. “The first court date you wanted me to come to was before I was even stable enough to be able to have sex with the man I trust more than anyone else in the whole world.”_

 

_“Why come to court now, then?”_

 

_“Because I’m ready now.” Freddie’s voice sounded more defiant as he looked up. “Because my children shouldn’t have to grow up with that monster walking the same streets as them. My children should be able to stay at their accommodation in Covent Garden at the age of seventeen without a man ten years older than them soliciting them for sex.” He paused for a moment. “Because I hope that one man hears this and realises that it’s all bullshit that men can’t be assaulted. Men can be raped too.”_

 

_“By definition of law, Mr. Hutton-”_

 

_“Fuck the law!” Freddie shouted; his palms grew clammy. “It’s non-consensual penetrative sex. That’s your legal definition. It’s just because I don’t have a vagina. That’s your problem.”_

 

_“It’s not like that-”_

 

_“Fuck off.” Freddie spat; Jim gripped his hand, warning him against going too far, but Freddie was in too far already. “If I had tits then you’d be quick to call it rape. He fucked me when I was so drugged up that I wasn’t even conscious. If I was a girl, your court wouldn’t treat me as you have.”_

 

_“Under common law, it’s defined as sexual assault.”_

 

_“Which is complete shit! It’s fucking 1976, and yet we’re still pretending that I can’t be raped just because I’ve got a cock.” His face was turning red with anger. “It’s fucking homophobic bollocks.”_

 

_“I must warn you, Mr. Hutton, that if you continue to use language like that-”_

 

_“Fuck you.” Freddie turned back and walked towards the door. “I’m not prosecuting my case in a court that won’t take me seriously.”_

 

* * *

 

“Freddie?” Jim knocked gently on the bedroom door. “Darling, are you awake?”

 

It was gone ten in the morning; the kids were happily eating in the kitchen, and Jer and Bomi were sipping tea in the lounge, ready to mind the children for another day. “Yeah.” Freddie’s voice was muffled, and Jim saw he had sellotape stuck to his lips when he walked into the room. He was hastily wrapping another present for Talulah: her birthday was creeping up on them, and they’d been decidedly distracted with the court case.

 

“Bomi brought a copy of the Standard with him. There are two things you should see.” He wrapped an arm around his waist and dropped a hasty kiss to the top of his head. “It might surprise you.”

 

“Oh?” Freddie asked distractedly. “If you make some tea, I’ll be down in a minute.” He was five weeks from his surgery now, mostly mobile, certainly able to get around the house mostly without his crutches. 

 

“Deal. Want any breakfast?” Jim offered. “It’s later than you usually eat.”

 

“Not really.” Freddie stopped and sighed. “Some fruit or something? I haven’t got much of an appetite.”

 

“Of course.” Jim squeezed him a little tighter for a moment. “She’ll love this, Freddie, she really will.”

 

Inside the package was a little pair of red ballet shoes, matching the ones that Freddie would wear to class henceforth. “I hope so.” He finally smiled at the idea of his little girl dancing in matching shoes to his. “She’s really liking the tots classes so far.”

 

Jim kissed him lightly before going to make the tea. Freddie came down a few minutes later, sweatpants thrown lazily around his hips, not even considering a shirt despite the presence of his mother and father. At that point, he couldn’t have cared less about appearances at home. He picked up his mug gratefully as Jim chopped strawberries, smiling into his mug; he continually thanked the world for this man who worked so hard to make his life good. “You mentioned the paper?” He asked.

 

“Dining table. Front page.” Jim smiled over at him. “It’s not the only one.”

 

“What do you mean?” Freddie asked before grabbing the paper and glancing at the headline. “Shit.” He whispered.

 

 _Free License to Rape,_ it read. 

 

“It’s about your case. Read it.” Jim implored. “It might restore your faith.”

 

_The court transcripts from Westminster Magistrates’ Court yesterday make for uncomfortable reading. Freddie Hutton, 26, better known professionally as Freddie Mercury of The Royal Ballet and of rock sensation Queen, stood in the witness box for the third trial of convicted serial abuser Paul Prenter, relating to allegations of misconduct between 1967 and 1969. During the proceedings, eyewitnesses claim to have seen Mr. Mercury becoming increasingly agitated, ending in an explosive outburst which has raised questions to be quickly addressed by the UK government._

 

_In remarkably inflammatory and derogatory language, Mr. Mercury questioned the ethics behind the country’s sexual abuse and assault laws. Under current law, rape can only happen within heterosexual pairings; the highest conviction for an attack on another man is sexual assault. He questioned whether the proceedings have been systematically biased against him due to his gender and his sexuality, as the allegations relate to actions that would otherwise be defined as rape if he were a woman._

 

_The Conservative MP f_ _or Kensington, Mr. Mercury’s local constituency, Brandon Rhys-Williams, is due to bring up the issue to the Prime Minister after today’s PMQs, and an inquest into the treatment of alternative sexualities in crimes of sexual violence is expected. In an unexpected turn of events, we could see the treatment of gay minorities improve drastically if it is upheld by the rest of Parliament._

 

“I didn’t realise.” Freddie looked over, cheeks flushing a little. “I didn’t know people were listening.”

 

“They could’ve changed the law by the time the trial finishes.” Jim kissed the back of his next and handed over the plate of fruit. “It needed someone to shout loud enough that people realised how unfair the law is to you.”

 

Freddie smiled shyly. “I’m not going to get my hopes up.” He insisted. “I’m glad it paid off to possibly jeopardise my trial.”

 

“It won’t jeopardise you.” Jim promised. “You made a scene, and you needed to make a scene for them to listen to you and respect you. You had to call them out on their bullshit.” He kissed Freddie’s cheek and sat beside him. “Look at the back page.”

 

“The back page?” Freddie echoed. “What’s the back page?”

 

“Have a look.” Jim smiled and rested his head on Freddie’s shoulder.

 

Freddie flicked to the back. “I swear, if this is some page three but with men, I’ll kick your arse from here to Wembley.” He chuckled, finally relaxing a little.

 

“It’s better than that.” Jim smiled as Freddie’s eyes scanned over the headline.

 

**UK Singles Chart**

 

“Shit.” Freddie whispered. “Oh my fucking God, what the hell?” He started to laugh.

 

“Rhapsody is number one.” Jim grinned, so proud of his husband. “Your fucking single got to number one.”

 

 

  1. **Bohemian Rhapsody - Queen**
  2. **Space Oddity - David Bowie**
  3. **Sailing - Rod Stewart**
  4. **Only Yesterday - The Carpenters**



 

 

“Holy fucking shit.” Freddie whispered, covering his mouth. “Oh my god, what the fuck? When did that happen?”

 

“While we were so caught up in the past that we forgot how amazing the present is.” Jim cupped his cheek and kissed him; it was the first time in weeks that Freddie responded passionately. “I bet you forgot that it’s our honeymoon in two and a half weeks, too.”

 

“Shit.” Freddie laughed against his lips and pulled him closer. “Darling, I love you so much.”

 

“I love you too.” Jim chuckled. “My little superstar. Now, go and put a shirt on before your poor mother has a heart attack seeing her half-naked son making out in the kitchen.”

 

“You’re my husband.” Freddie muttered. “I’ll do what I damn want to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This contains random oddly specific things (references to PMQs, page three etc.) so please drop a comment if you don't understand a reference! Also drop a comment telling me about your hopes for part three!


	30. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next day of questioning.

_ Freddie’s heart was afire as he took the little bundle. “Oh, darling, he’s beautiful!” He said softly, gently rocking the baby back and forth. The baby was simply the most perfect thing Freddie had ever seen; soft blonde hair, powdered skin, blue eyes and the prettiest smile as he glanced up at his new daddy. _

 

_ “I’m so glad you like him.” The girl - she was Emily, sixteen - replied to him. “I just- I want him to have a good life. I don’t think I can give that to him.” She looked away shyly. “Every time I see him, I think of what happened, and I can’t- I can’t live like that.” _

 

_ “We’ll take such good care of him.” Freddie promised. “If you ever decide that you do want to meet him, you can always be in touch. You’re his mother, no matter what.” _

 

_ The baby started to whimper and Freddie shushed him gently, bouncing him. “It’s okay, Teddy, darling, you’re okay.” He said softly. As Emily watched him, she felt as though her decision had been for the best; her son would be looked after, loved fully and wholeheartedly. _

 

_ “Do you have other children?” She asked as Freddie carefully swaddled the baby a little tighter to calm him. “What are you going to call him?” _

 

_ “I do!” Freddie smiled. “I have a daughter who’s thirteen and a son who’s fourteen. Talulah and Oliver.” He picked the baby up and cooed lightly at his smile. “I’m going to call him Theodore. Teddy while he’s little, and then Theo.” _

 

_ “How do they feel about you having another child when they’re older?” She asked curiously.  _

 

_ “Talulah is really excited. She loves to work with children. She volunteers in a local tots ballet class.” He chuckled. “Oliver enjoys looking after people, so he’s interested in a new challenge.” _

  
  


“You want me to come up with you?” Jim asked quietly and squeezed Freddie’s hand. “It looks like some tough questions today.”

 

“I think I’m okay.” Freddie smiled shyly. “I’m okay with them. I don’t find them quite as personal, which is weird, but it’s kind of like telling the story of a different person. I was so drugged up then, I don’t really have strong feelings attached to it.”

 

“Make sure you take your time. Make sure you take breaks if you need them.” Jim gently kissed his forehead. “You’ve got this.”

 

Freddie moved up onto the stand with shaky hands, saying a few polite good mornings and smiling shyly. He was trying not to let it all come down too heavily on him: he wanted to prove that he could cope. “Mr. Hutton.” Paul’s lawyer stood up, and Freddie calmed a little at the sight of his smile. It was a small gesture, but it felt to Freddie as though people were now finally listening to him. “May I begin questioning?”

 

“Of course.” Freddie was sitting today, having been told off by his physiotherapist for standing for too long through the trial when his leg wasn’t fully fixed. 

 

“I’d like to pick up on some things you mentioned yesterday. Especially - and I apologise for bringing this up as the first article of the morning, but I feel as though it deserves extra clarification - especially your references to prostitution. What exactly do you class as prostitution?” He tried to ask the question more gently, having acknowledged the sensitivity of the case. In all actuality, he was a little ashamed that he’d been so rude to Freddie before.

 

“Oh!” Freddie paused for a moment. “I’m in a band, as you probably know. When we were trying to pay for our first demo, your client sold me to other men for the purposes of sex so that I could afford the demo.”

 

“And how did that work out financially?”

 

“At that point, he had all of my paychecks paid directly into his bank account, so I was unable to access my own money to pay for it. When he sold me, he would take a cut of the money and then give me the rest.” Freddie sighed and rubbed his eyes. “It went on for a few months.”

 

“And why - please forgive me for this question - why didn’t you stop it at any point?”

  
“I was struggling with addiction at the time. He got me hooked on codeine because I was in so much pain from beatings and then from trying to dance with injuries. And when you’re addicted, you’ll do anything for the drug, because when you start withdrawing it hurts so badly. Your stomach cramps and you feel sick and you’re hot and sweaty and you can’t think about anything other than making it all stop.” He squeezed his hands together gently, grounding himself. “And especially because it numbs you emotionally, you don’t want to think about how bad your circumstances are.”

 

He nodded, taking a few notes. “And so…?”

 

“And so he threatened to take it all away whenever I said no. He threatened to lock me in our bedroom until I’d gotten it all out my system. And so I said yes, whatever, I can’t go through being sold again, and then it felt like I’d die if I came off such high doses all at once. I was screaming and I was crying and so he brought men to the house and when I’d satisfied them he gave me more than ever and it just knocked me out.”

 

“What were you like at that time, in yourself?”

 

“I was very numb. I don’t have a lot of memories.” He admitted. “I withdrew from the rest of the world and I wouldn’t talk to my friends or family. I had a lot of undiagnosed mental health problems that were getting worse and worse with the addiction and the isolation and the coercive control. Physically, I had a lot of fainting spells and even a few seizures when I took too much.”

 

“Thank you, Freddie.” He smiled. “No further questions regarding that time. I was hoping you could, however, develop on what you were saying about an eating disorder.”

 

“There’s a lot of studies done into disorders in dancers.” It was something Freddie himself had researched more and more throughout his life. “Up to twenty per cent of ballet dancers suffer from anorexia in their career. It’s almost the norm.”

 

“How did it affect you personally?”

 

“When I was thirteen, my best friend made a bet with me that she could lose more weight before the audition season started. I was absolutely adamant that I was going to win, but she won. In hindsight, it’s because I was already a skinny little thing.” Freddie sighed a little. “But I felt humiliated, and I was convinced that I’d show them all because I was going to be the one that was going to train and dance in London. I decided that I’d just eat when I was hungry, and then I was just never hungry. I was hospitalised about eight months later because my body was trying to use my heart for energy.”

 

“And you mentioned this recurred through your life?”

 

“Your client had a fascination with seeing how long I could go without food and drink. I’d stretch out for days, doing shows and rehearsals on energy drinks and nothing else.” Freddie didn’t like the memories, and he took a moment to calm himself, to do what his therapist had told him to do - throw a positive memory into his mind to stop him triggering his fight or flight response.

 

_ Jim’s fingers were gentle in his hair as he combed the long strands back. Oliver’s face was tucked into Freddie’s neck and he slept soundly against his chest; Freddie sent Jim a tired smile as he glanced at their new son. He would forever be thankful for how quickly Oliver had taken to them. He closed his eyes heavily, lost between the softness of his son’s hair and the feather-light touches over his skin. “I love you.” He whispered, turning to glance at Jim. _

 

_ “Love you too, Daddy.” Oliver murmured and Freddie’s face lit up, a look of complete shock and surprise gracing his face.  _

 

“It was another form of numbness.” Freddie found the strength to carry on. “I was physically and emotionally numbed by the drugs, and so then I was numbed by the ache in my stomach. There’s a strange comfort to it when you work in a profession where you can’t have an ounce of fat on your body. It feels like you’re working on yourself properly.”

 

“And after the attack?” The lawyer asked. “Take your time, Mr. Hutton.”

 

“I wanted to feel numb again because I was so traumatised, but I couldn’t go back on the drugs because people would notice. So I decided to just start cutting meals.” He explained. “It felt almost natural, in a way.”

 

“And would you say it still affects you? Or have you overcome it now?”

 

“I don’t think you can overcome it when you work in my profession.” Freddie admitted. “I don’t have the compulsive urge to cut meals and punish myself anymore. But, at the same time, I know the very bottom limit of the healthy weight range for my height and I hug it religiously. I don’t go too far into the healthy range.”

 

For Jim, it was surprising to hear Freddie talk so honestly about it all. These were things he’d only told Jim recently, shy admissions that he would’ve rather kept quiet.

 

Jim had never minded; it helped him to paint a full picture in his mind.

 

“Can I take a break?” Freddie asked quietly. “I’m getting a headache.”

 

Headaches more often than not meant migraines; Jim had been anticipating one in court since the first day of the trial. He’d kept tablets in his pocket just in case: after whining at Freddie for months to go to the doctor, he’d been giving specialist medications that could help fend off a migraine at least for a while. 

 

“Darling?” Jim rested a hand on Freddie’s waist as they walked into the break room. “Scale of one to ten?” He asked gently; it was a frequent question when he started to show symptoms.

 

Freddie poured himself some water and gulped down a big glass quickly. “Probably a seven?” He replied. “Maybe an eight. Seven and a half?”

 

Jim grabbed the tablets and he saw Freddie’s expression ease a little. “Take two of these. Should work in a few minutes.”

 

Freddie swallowed them quickly. “God, you really think of everything, don’t you?”

 

“I’m your husband, and I know you get migraines in high-stress environments.” Jim kissed him lightly and sat down next to him. “Whatever I can do to help you, darling, I will.”

 

“It wasn’t so bad today.” Freddie conceded. “I feel like they’re listening to me and respecting me. The guy questioning me, he was really nice to me today. I feel like they’re on my side today.”

 

“And it’s a half day. We have the chance to have an easy afternoon together.” Jim smiled and pulled him in close. “We’re already like a third of the way through today.”

 

“Thank God.” Freddie’s smile came more easily as the tablets started to work. “God, these are miracles.”

 

“I told you you had to go to the doctor. These make life a lot easier.” He kissed Freddie’s forehead gently. “And you can have a kip before I go to pick up the kids.”

 

“I’m coming too.” Freddie insisted. “I miss them. I don’t feel like I’ve seen enough of them this last week.”

 

“I’m sure they won’t mind that one bit.” Jim smiled. “I did promise them ice cream after dinner.”

 

“That’s reasonable as long as I get some too.” Freddie chuckled.

 

His smile was a little heavy, his eyes were a little far-off, but it got easier as the end edged nearer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally!! I'm so sorry I've tried to write this five times and it just wasn't happening until today. As always, please leave me all the comments bc I've missed having them in my inbox for the last five days :(


	31. The Verdict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all a little overwhelming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure you read chapter 30 (Touch) before this if you didn't catch it!

_ “Sentencing.” Freddie whispered into the darkness of the morning. He was sat out in the garden, legs crossed on his mat; he’d been stretching, but he couldn’t seem to keep his mind in one place. The three defining ideas floating through his mind were the day’s sentencing, his classes starting again in a few weeks, and his honeymoon being only the following week.  _

 

_ He rolled his head back, feeling the stretch through his tired neck, and smiled at the intruding sun. All his life, since the age of seventeen, he’d wanted the hold of that man gone from him; now, he might just be able to achieve it. He pointed his toes, stretching the arch in his foot as best he could; the muscles protested the old and familiar movement with the satisfying ache of a holiday. He was going to be free. _

 

_ Hopefully. _

  
  


“I need you to come with me.” Freddie held both of Jim’s hands gently. “Because I might get upset if it all goes wrong. I don’t - I’m not making any promises, darling.”

 

“Of course I will.” Jim wrapped an arm around his waist as Freddie grabbed his crutch - down to one now, on days where his leg was too tired or he had to walk too far. He knew Freddie hadn’t slept much the night before, knew he’d crash pretty much as soon as they got home; he’d been running more on caffeine and adrenaline than sleep during the trial. “Darling, no matter what, I love you.”

 

Freddie turned to him before they walked back into the court and smiled. “I love you too, Jim.” He said softly. “Thank you- thank you for supporting me.”

 

Jim held his free hand as they walked back into court, sitting at the front of the auditorium as Paul stood in the questioning box. Freddie squeezed his hand tightly as the leader of the jury stood up, and Jim wrapped an arm around him tightly, keeping him feeling safe. “Have the jury come to a verdict?” The judge asked, standing himself.

 

“Yes, your honour.” The woman replied, and Freddie started breathing a little quicker, squeezing Jim’s hand so hard the bones could break. 

 

“On the count of physical assault?”

 

“Guilty.”

 

Freddie ducked down, elbows on knees and head in hands; it was the strangest closure in the whole world, the strangest validation of what he’d been through.

 

“On the count of coercive behaviour?”

 

“Guilty.”

 

Jim kissed Freddie’s knuckles gently as he sat back up.

 

“On the count of procuring prostitution?”

 

“Guilty.”

 

Freddie looked over at Jim, completely speechless. They’d believed him all along.

 

“On the count of attempted murder?”

 

“Guilty.”

 

“Shit.” Freddie whispered. He was shaking worse than Jim had ever felt before.

 

“On the count of sexual assault?”

 

The tension in the room was palpable; Freddie was so hyper-aware of the eyes on him, of the presence of the cameras outside for the purpose of the six o’clock news. He couldn’t breathe, it felt as though he were choking again, as though he were going dizzy - his hearing was fuzzy, as was his head-

 

“Special verdict, your honour.”

 

“What the fuck?” Jim whispered, looking over at the jury quickly; the colour drained from Freddie’s face and he looked for a moment as though he would faint there in the courtroom.

 

“What does that mean?” Freddie asked shakily, his whole body feeling cold immediately. 

 

“Granted.” The judge replied. “The verdict is…?”

 

“The account fits all the necessary requirements for conviction under statutory rape laws. The jury finds the defendant guilty on the charge of aggravated rape.”

 

The air filled Freddie’s lungs again and he couldn’t help himself if he burst into tears at that moment. He covered his mouth quickly as he breathed shakily, curling in on himself to try to stop himself from making a scene. 

 

Jim was frozen momentarily.

 

The judge considered the response for a few moments and then nodded. “Verdict granted. Charge changed to aggravated rape, for which the defendant has been found guilty.”

 

Jim wrapped an arm around Freddie’s waist to help him stand for the sentencing. He was still crying, and there was nothing at that moment that Jim could do to comfort him; they just had to listen.

 

“The sentencing is as follows.” The judge began; Jim felt Freddie try to even out his breathing, try to calm himself down. “For the charge of physical assault, sixteen years. Criteria for consideration include vulnerability, multiple attacks, gratuitous degradation, abuse of power, forced to leave home, previous violence and steps taken to stop reporting. For the charge of coercive control, the maximum of five years.”

 

Freddie fought his breath to stay calm. 

 

“For the charge of procuring prostitution, the maximum of seven years. For the count of murder, thirty-five years. Criteria for consideration include the purpose of sexual or sadistic pleasure-”

 

A memory flashed across Jim’s memory; Freddie, unable to breathe, bloodied and beaten, with hands on his belt. They’d believed him.

 

“The cause of serious and long-term physical and psychological harm, vulnerability, previous convictions relating to the same victim, especially those regarding repeated instances of abuse, planned offence, abuse of power and the additional degradation of the victim through photographs in compromising situations.”

 

Freddie felt as though he were about to collapse; Jim tightened his arm to keep him upright. 

 

“For the count of aggravated rape, a life tariff due to the dangerous nature of the offender. Criteria for consideration include multiple attacks, inciting others to commit the same offence, intimidation and coercion and forcing completion upon the victim.”

 

Freddie had to sit; his head was spinning.

 

“Any questions?” The judge asked.

 

“How long is that in total?” Paul asked; Freddie looked up quicker than anything.

 

“A life tariff with a minimum of seventy-eight years. No chance of parole without a minimum of forty years of impeccable behaviour.”

 

In forty years he’d be seventy-six. He probably wouldn’t live past forty; Freddie didn’t like looking at how gaunt he was.

 

“Court adjourned.”

 

* * *

 

Freddie was fast asleep. Jim had been right about how exhausted he’d be after the end of the trial; it was the first time that he could sleep easily. He knew now that his children would be safe, that he’d be safe, that he could finally move on and leave that part of his life behind. He didn’t ever want to go through something like that again.

 

“Why don’t we make something for Daddy?” Jim suggested to the children, who immediately looked up from their colouring.

 

“Like what, Pop?” Oliver asked excitedly. 

 

“I was thinking maybe cupcakes, but I could do with two little angels to help me make and decorate all of them by the time Daddy wakes up.” Jim smiled. Their house, their life, suddenly felt so much less contaminated; he felt free.

 

“We can help!” Talulah said excitedly and smiled up at her Pop. “We can make chocolate ones because they’re Daddy’s favourite!”

 

“Good idea!” Jim grinned and picked them both up, a child per hip. He sat them on the kitchen island and smiled to himself. “Now, who wants to measure the flour?”

 

“Me!” Oliver said quickly and Talulah pouted.

 

“Lulah, can you crack eggs into this bowl for me?” Jim asked her and watched as her face lit up excitedly. For a three-year-old, she had strangely good skills in the kitchen; Jim only had to pick out the littlest piece of shell from the bowl. 

 

Their favourite part, of course, was licking the bowl that the melted chocolate had been in; Jim judiciously drew a line down the middle of the bowl so that it was clear what chocolate belonged to which child. There was something about the sight of them, chocolate-sticky and giggling, that made Jim’s heart melt; they were so young, and they were allowed to be young in a way that Freddie and he had never experienced. In some ways, it felt like vengeance on having his own childhood stolen away.

 

“Darling?” Freddie’s voice was a little groggy as he leaned against the doorway, balanced on his crutches. Jim stood up from where he’d put the cakes in the oven and smiled, dusting sugar and flour from his hands. “What’s going on?”

 

“Shh!” Oliver said loudly, tugging on Jim’s shirt. “It’s a secret!”

 

Jim chuckled and walked over to Freddie, taking in the sight of him so relaxed for once. He was wearing Jim’s sweatpants, too long for him, pulled tight around his waist - he never seemed to want his own clothes when he was tired. “I’m afraid the kitchen has to be a Freddie-free zone, darling, but if you go to the lounge then I’ll bring in a pot of tea.”

 

“Deal.” Freddie smiled up at him and yawned. “Can I steal a child? I want cuddles.”

 

“Steal me!” Oliver said quickly. “I want Daddy cuddles.”

 

“Sounds like a deal, little man.” Freddie smiled as Jim helped Oliver off the counter and he went running to Freddie. 

 

“Can I show you my drawings, Daddy?” He asked hopefully and Freddie chuckled.

 

“Of course you can, darling. I always want to see them.” Freddie had occasionally joked about making a wallpaper from his children’s drawings, but he was considering more and more putting them up on the wall in his studio that was awfully dull.

 

“Okay, Lulah, you and me.” Jim grinned. “What should we decorate with?”

 

“Chocolate chips!” She said excitedly. “And marshmallows and sprinkles and those gold balls that go crunch.” She nodded certainly. “Celebration cupcakes.”

 

“That’s a big word!” Jim smiled. “Good job, darling.”   
  
“Pop, I am four in two days.” She shook her head as if trying to be condescending and Jim laughed.

 

“I know, darling. You’re very grown up for a three-year-old.”

 

* * *

 

Freddie closed his eyes heavily and curled up to his husband. “Thank you.” He whispered, wrapping an arm around Jim’s waist tightly. “For everything, darling.”

 

“You don’t have to thank me, sweetness.” Jim smiled and ran his fingers through Freddie’s hair. “It’s been a privilege.”

 

He saw the sleepy smile on Freddie’s face, obscured by the dark, safe and close and warm. “I never have to worry about it again.” He murmured slowly, as though tasting each word on his tongue for the first time. 

 

“You were so strong, darling.” Jim said softly and pulled him close. “You dealt with everything so well. I was- I was honestly surprised, Freddie, by how well you handled it.”

 

“I really am getting better.” Freddie smiled and tucked himself close and tight to Jim. “Now we can celebrate properly.”   
  
“Shall we go out tomorrow night? Get drunk?” Jim chuckled. “Dance on tables and the like?”

 

“Yes!” Freddie chuckled. “I’m sure Mama and Dad will take the kids for an evening while we celebrate.”

 

“And then it’s off to Bali for two weeks.” Jim’s voice was barely a whisper, but Freddie heard it regardless. 

 

“Bali?” Freddie asked. “Holy shit, we’re going to Bali?”

 

“Secrets out.” Jim smiled. “You should see the place we’re staying in. You can swim right up to the doors of our apartment. I thought we could do some touristy things and also spend half our time on the beaches. They have gorgeous white sand beaches that I thought you’d love.”

 

“I’ve always wanted to go.” Freddie smiled excitedly. “Oh, darling, you spoil me!”

 

“You know I love to spoil you.” Jim kissed his forehead. “I love you, darling.”

 

“I love you too.” Freddie lay back down and hugged him tightly. “I’m going to have the best honeymoon ever.”

 

_ “Drinks for Mr. Hutton.” Jim walked out onto the beach, balancing a cocktail in each hand. “It might be strangely sour because it’s some lemon and citrus thing that you’d probably be able to read but I had to murder the pronunciation of.” _

 

_ “You’re just jealous because Balinese is fairly close to Hindi.” Freddie took a cocktail and smiled, languishing in the bright sunshine. “It’s helpful, though.” _

 

_ “My strangely talented husband.” Jim smiled. “A ballet dancing, singing, multi-lingual father.” _


	32. Virtuoso

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A return to the domestic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love nuances, kids

Freddie was always surprised how quickly it came back to him after a long break. The all-clear had come from the physiotherapists, meaning he could finally start to progress back to full classes; they began to do short half-days in preparation for the beginning of the new season. Today it was a three-hour morning class, ten in the morning until one in the afternoon with a fifteen-minute break in the middle, that would test the strength of his leg to be properly danced on again.

 

His heart was beating faster than usual, swept up in the excitement of being back in the studio and back dancing. He had three of these classes this week, then two weeks off for his honeymoon, and then it was straight back into his regular rehearsal schedule. The best thing about the upcoming season, though, were the changes to his timetable; he would dance from ten until four, finally taking the same hours as his husband, because he’d been more selective with the shows he’d dance in. 

 

Whenever Mayerling came back around, Freddie had no choice but to accept the shows; he was the most popular Rudolph, and it was far and away his favourite part to play in any ballet. Alongside it, he had The Sleeping Beauty at Christmastime, Romeo and Juliet, Farewell and the new Rhapsody.

 

Someone had described Rhapsody to him as _“virtuoso in the orchestral pit, and virtuoso on stage”_ and that had stayed with him. He loved to be there, to work alongside his husband when they could both show off their individual talents. There was talent in everything they did together, but this gave him the chance to show off the often overlooked talent of his husband alongside himself.

 

His mind so often drifted away when he was dancing, when it was a familiar routine like this one; his mind heard the music and reacted accordingly without the necessity of thought. This was a routine he’d been introduced to at eighteen, and so eight years later was so-well practiced that he could recreate the steps in his sleep.

 

“Jim?” Olga called and Freddie’s head snapped up quickly, almost faltering in his step; he hadn’t been paying attention to the room. “Jim, darling, slow down! The only person that can keep with that tempo is Freddie.”

 

They took their cues from each other so well; Freddie found his pace from what Jim played, and Jim could always tell when Freddie needed it speeding up or slowing down. The only problem, though, was that Freddie was a naturally quick dancer, could turn faster than most and favoured expressions of his speed: Jim naturally sped up the pace to match what he enjoyed most.

 

When Freddie glanced around, he realised the others were a good few steps behind him, and he blushed a little shyly. “Sorry!” He smiled bashfully, pausing in his fourth arabesque until the others had caught up to him.

 

‘Don’t worry, darling. It’s just clear who he takes his cues from.” Olga chuckled. “Let’s restart that one, shall we?”

 

Freddie blew Jim a kiss and winked as he ran back to his starting position, standing eagerly awaiting the music in fifth. Jim did this for him frequently, the privilege of being married to the pianist; he would slip one of Freddie’s favourite routines into anything he was playing just to put a smile on his face. Freddie liked a challenge, but he also liked familiar warm-ups; he liked to know that he wasn’t going to have to challenge himself so much in the warm-up that he risked injury. 

 

Jim smiled and blushed as he glanced down at his hands, and Freddie’s heart soared. After all this time together, after everything they’d been through, they could still make each other act like teenagers with their first love. Freddie would be forever thankful for the man behind the piano, at the head of the orchestra, sat in the bathroom bathing his children or making the morning coffee; he’d forever be thankful for the man that had brought him back to life.

 

_“Hide me.” Freddie said playfully, grabbing his bag and sitting by the pedals of the piano._

 

_“Why? What have you done?” Jim chuckled, glancing down as he pushed down his legwarmer to reveal the surgery scar on his left thigh._

 

_“Oh, I haven’t done anything.” Freddie murmured as he grabbed a tube from his bag. “But this leg has been really underused and so the muscle is struggling to warm up. I want to put this balm on but we’re not allowed to sit down during class and I don’t want Olga to call me out.”_

 

_“I’m sure she’ll make an exception for you, darling, seeing as you’ve just come back from an injury.” Jim said soothingly. “But you’re definitely hidden under the piano, don’t you worry.”_

 

_Freddie’s smile was wide as he looked up at his husband. “I love you.” He said, making no effort to hide his joy. “And I love our life together.”_

 

_“The privilege is all mine, sweetheart.” Jim hummed as he began the next piece. “I get to watch you being gorgeous at least three hundred days of the year.”_

 

_“And I couldn’t do it without you.” Freddie kissed him gently before running back into the class; Jim was surprised that his fingers didn’t even falter on the keys._

 

 

 

“Do you ever think about how I’ve changed?” Freddie asked curiously as he cut up the vegetables for their dinner. 

 

“All the time. I like to think about it.” Jim smiled and kissed his temple. “I like to think about how healthy you are now, in comparison to then.”

 

“I was thinking about the little things. I discussed them with my therapist yesterday.” Freddie added the onions to the pan at Jim’s cue. “Things like how I used to not be able to smile without covering my mouth because I was so self-conscious all the time. I lost that habit because you’ve always told me that my smile is beautiful.” He said, smiling openly with his words. 

 

“We’ve both changed so much.” Jim grabbed the oil from the counter and added another splash to the pan. “Like, I would’ve never dreamed of telling anyone about the shit from my childhood when I first met you. I just- I had such a façade. That’s why I threw so much energy into helping you, because it helped me take the focus off myself, which is what I thought I needed at the time.”

 

“You would’ve been a little Kensington hairdresser living above a shop for the rest of your life. You were so lost.” Freddie leaned over and squeezed his hand as he grabbed the eggs. “Casual sex is a bitch.”

 

“Isn’t it just? You just feel completely worthless, like no one wants to hold commitment with you.” Jim shook his head. “Did I tell you about the guy who got in contact with me recently? It was about the whole boarding school thing.”

 

“No?” Freddie hummed. “You might have, in all honesty. I’ve been pretty preoccupied with the trial, so it’s probably worth reminding me again.”

 

“So it turns out that the headmaster has been prosecuted on soliciting and procuring child sex.” He glanced over and shook his head, smiling. “I had no idea. They found a load of old photos in one of his desk drawers and called the police. So now they’re trying to build up a case against the whole institution.”

 

“Have we got another trial coming?” Freddie questioned.

 

“Not that I have to attend, thankfully. But I’m going to go and give a statement to the Met Police that can be used as evidence at his trial.” Jim’s smile was strangely excited, but Freddie understood it immediately. He’d seen the success of Freddie’s trial, and now he was hoping to be free himself.

 

“Do you want me to come with you?” Freddie asked, looking up at his husband. “I’m serious, I’m happy to come with you if you want me to. It shouldn’t trigger me or anything.”

 

Jim looked over at Freddie and then smiled. “That would be good.” He nodded his head. “I- I think it’ll be helpful to have a familiar face.” 

 

Freddie leaned up and kissed his jaw gently. It had taken Jim a long time to not feel inadequate when he asked for help, to feel as though it was okay to rely on Freddie in the same way that Freddie had relied on him. Having someone so dependent on him had made him rock solid, but also made it difficult for him to admit that he needed help in his own ways; it was hard to focus back on his broken inner self when he’d done such a good job of repairing someone else’s.

 

“You tell me when, and I’ll be there.” Freddie leaned over and squeezed his hand.

 

* * *

 

 

It was late at night when Jim came downstairs, looking for Freddie. It was rare that Jim went to bed before Freddie, rarer still that Freddie wouldn’t follow him in a matter of minutes; he was so accustomed to their rhythm that it felt interrupted when he didn’t have Freddie’s tiny, tight body to pull close to him at night.

 

He wrapped his arms around his torso as he walked downstairs, checking Freddie’s studio, the main bathroom, the lounge and the kitchen, all without signs of life. He glanced at the back door and saw it propped open ever so slightly; he opened it silently and walked out onto the ledge, watching the garden.

 

Freddie stood on the patio at the bottom of the garden, scratching a few words into a notebook beside him. Jim watched, breath catching in awe, as he watched him jeté in those scarlet pointe shoes, the colour standing out among the more muted tones of his garden. Jim felt as though he had finally completed breathing life into him, and as though this was his reward; to see his lover so wrapped up in a passion that had once been a punishment. 

 

Dance had once been desperate. Dance had once been Freddie’s only way to try and restart his life; dance had once been a mechanism to keep him thin, a vicious and self-perpetuating cycle that it was so hard to pull someone out of. It had been hard, so hard, to watch him fall down and have to haul himself back up; it had been so hard to have that conversation whenever he started looking gaunt, when it was clear that he wasn’t looking after himself.

 

To watch him now felt like an indulgence because it felt like an achievement. Paul had cast such a shadow over both of their lives from the very first time he’d met Freddie; he’d spent a long time kicking himself for seeing that slap and instinctively vowing to not get involved. A domestic, he’d written it off in his head. In actuality, he could never have been expected to understand that Freddie was being beaten to within an inch of his life; Jim had had his own series of bad relationships, and it almost felt the norm to be slapped about a bit. 

 

He’d always felt as though Paul had had an unfair degree of control over Freddie, a control that Jim had never had. With one sentence, he could undo months of Jim’s work, send Freddie spiralling back downwards, throwing him back down towards square one all over again. It had been exhausting at times to play the role of the nurturer over and over again as his self-worth was dashed repeatedly; it had been exhausting to maintain such strength over such a slow healing period. 

 

Now, with that bastard locked up for good, he felt free.

 

Freddie was free, and so he was free. Freddie was free to smile, to laugh, to love and behave in whatever way he so desired. Everything he’d ever been through had been validated, and he could go back to his therapist and say for certain that nothing had been made up, that everything could be proved with evidence. 

 

He felt a lightness across their relationship and across their whole family. He’d expected Freddie to spiral downwards after the trial, after everything had been dragged back out into the light of day. He was thrilled that Freddie had been so happy; he was singing, he was dancing, he was reading stories and running around after the children and pushing them on swings and still having the stamina and happiness at the end of the day to fall into bed with his husband.

 

Jim felt as though he’d brought him back to life. There was this man, this beautiful, self-confident man, strong enough to dance from dawn to dusk, healthy and happy. There was this man, this man with so much love in his heart, with an unrivalled sex drive, with all the care in the world for people he was closest to.

 

Jim was proud of himself.

 

“Darling?” He called as he walked down the stairs. The stairs were one of the reasons that Jim loved their little home so much; having a garden at a different level to the rest of the house meant that they had created a faux-balcony by the back door, enabling him to look at his hard work all in one glance. Even more, though, he loved the feeling of descending those stairs, like something out of a movie, some royal princess with a long flowing gown.

 

He’d never been into the whole ‘princess’ thing like Freddie was, but it was a nice thought regardless.

 

“Sweetness, why don’t you come to bed?” Jim asked softly, standing at the foot of the stairs. 

 

“I’ve left this too late.” Freddie chuckled. “I need to try and choreograph it in a few days.”

 

“Please?” Jim tried again, coming forwards. He was tired, sleep-heavy, and he wanted his husband.

 

“I-” Freddie turned around when a gentle hand rested on his waist and paused. “Are you okay, darling?”

 

“Yeah.” Jim smiled and pulled Freddie a little closer. “I just miss you.”

 

“I’m only a few floors down.” Freddie smiled in turn and let himself snuggle into the embrace. Freddie enjoyed hugs more than anything else in the whole world; he loved the feeling of those arms tight around him and the firm body underneath his. “Maybe I am tired.” He conceded.

 

Jim smiled widely and traced his thumb over Freddie’s cheekbone, touch feather-light. He got those moods sometimes, times when he wanted to just cradle Freddie close and tight so that he knew nothing could ever happen to him ever again; now, even more than ever, that he was healing. “Come to bed, sweetheart.” He said quietly.

 

Freddie nodded, smiling shyly. “Okay, darling.” He agreed.

 

Jim just smiled - once upon a time, Freddie would’ve worked himself to the small hours of the morning for the sake of these commitments.

 

_“Can we check on the children?” Freddie asked quietly, hand holding Jim’s tightly. “I don’t know why, I just want to check.”_

 

_“Of course we can.” Jim smiled as Freddie pushed the door open quietly. A beam of light fell across the bedroom, lighting up a little face in a warm bed, sleeping soundly. Freddie smiled at the sight of Oliver, curled up small towards the side of his bed; his chest rose and fell evenly, and he smiled in his sleep._

 

_Jim heard a small “Daddy” that Oliver murmured in his sleep, and his heart melted when he realised that Talulah had moved from her own bed into Oliver’s. She clutched his special blanket, while he curled around, safe and close and protective._

 

_Jim wondered if Oliver had ever seen the way that Jim slept curled around Freddie; it had always comforted him, and now it comforted Talulah, too._


	33. Swaddling Blankets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An important revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very very very brief reference to gross mutilation sorry kids it is legit only one line though

Jim loved to watch him when he slept. It was best like this, nose to nose, Freddie’s eyelashes fluttering with each gentle breath, with each soft rise and fall of his breathing. As he breathed in, his chest would fill with air, would puff out ever so slightly; as he breathed out, his stomach would hollow a little, would expose the cut of his hip bones. It was a relatively new phenomenon, being able to watch him in this way without risk of waking his husband; Freddie, always a light sleeper, had the ability to know when Jim was awake and moving ever so slightly.

 

He leaned forward and touched his husband’s lower lip lightly. He loved the feeling, the warmth of his skin as he slept. No matter what happened during the night, he would always wake to this beautiful face beside him, the gentle pillow creases from the silk sheets. No matter what happened during the day, he would always sleep with fists tucked up in his shirt, newborn closeness and warmth.

 

Freddie hummed a little, moved to curl up smaller, tucked his head underneath his husband’s chin. He yawned, and Jim’s heart melted a little; very occasionally, Freddie had the power to invoke in Jim’s heart a feeling usually only felt from his children. It was that feeling of wanting to squeeze him, wanting to curl up and protect him because he just looked so small and so young and so innocent; he loved and trusted his husband so much.

 

He let his fingers trail down Freddie’s side, feeling the swell of muscles beneath his fingers, muscles strong and ready to go back to work. He sometimes found it strange to think that he was so strong, physically and mentally, and yet he had such an ability to be so small at the same time. As he grew older, he grew bigger physically, and yet inside he was the same nineteen-year-old that he’d fallen in love with, regressing back to the toddler that was never protected at night.

 

He pressed his fingers against the tiny patch of softness at the inside of Freddie’s thigh, the only place on his whole body that he wasn’t quite so sinewy and lean, the only place that yielded when he kissed it beside his lips. He loved that little patch so much, felt the health in his mind that was needed to be comfortable with his body like that-

 

“Stop touching me and come back to sleep.” Freddie was grumbling but he smiled at his husband; Jim’s cheeks pinkened when he realised he was awake and had felt all the little touches. “Unless you’re trying to feel me up, in which case, go ahead.”

 

Jim laughed and leaned forward to kiss him. “You’re fucking beautiful.” He murmured, cupping his cheek innocently. 

 

Freddie smiled and kissed him back. “I’m also really fucking tired, darling.” He said softly. “Come back to sleep.”

 

Jim settled back down in the bed and brought the blanket over Freddie’s bare shoulder. “I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

 

“You’re always soft when you’re tired.” Freddie smiled and rested his head against Jim’s chest. “I told you, darling, how lucky I am to have this life with you.” He closed his eyes, settling again for the night.

 

“Sometimes I don’t know if you realise that I’m lucky to have you, too.” Jim whispered when he was sure Freddie was asleep again.

 

* * *

 

“Do you think I need to lose some weight?” Freddie asked, standing in front of the long mirror in the bedroom, twisting and turning a little self consciously. “I mean- I’m going to fat on my thighs and a little around my middle. It’s not very professional.” He was growing conscious of his body again, having felt his lover’s hands on his soft spots; Paul had once felt them with disgust, in the time when his body was still transitioning to adulthood, and cut them until he’d worked hard enough to make them disappear.

 

Jim paused from where he stood by the wardrobe. “Is that the trial talking?” He asked bluntly. He’d been expecting, this whole time, that Freddie would have some kind of hangover from the trial, something that would haunt him, some memory that would appear and refuse to be beaten down. He’d expected it to be harder than it had been, but maybe this was what would reappear to haunt them both; ingrained behaviour from even before Paul’s time.

 

“What do you mean?” Freddie asked shyly. 

 

“I mean, darling, that you know I think you’re beautiful.” Jim walked over to him and gently kissed his forehead.

 

“But you’re my husband, you have to say that. I mean, like, objectively-” He started but Jim rested a finger over his lips.

 

“Objectively, darling, I’m the first to indulge in you aesthetically.” Jim smiled. “How many times do you think I’ve gotten off just from the sight of you over the years? I mean, it’s disgustingly objectifying you, but it’s also true.”

 

Freddie couldn’t help but smile at his honesty. “You’re still not answering my question.”

 

“No, darling, I don’t think you need to lose any weight at all. I think you’re perfect as you are, and you’re being poisoned by that little tiny bit of your brain.” Jim said softly. “I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

 

“Do you really mean that?” Freddie asked unsurely. “Or are you just saying that because-”

 

He stopped himself quickly when little arms hugged his leg; he glanced down to see his son hugging him tightly. “Daddy is beautiful.” He said decisively. Freddie blushed and leaned down to him, sweeping him up in his arms; losing the crutches had meant that he finally, finally could pick up his children again - it hadn’t occurred to him how much they’d grow in the meantime.

 

“I love you, darling.” He said softly. “You have to ignore Daddy when he’s being silly, okay? You don’t have to listen to everything I say.”

 

“Daddy is beautiful.” He said again, hugging his little arms around Freddie’s neck. “I want to be like you when I’m grown-up.”

 

Freddie smiled and kissed Oliver’s forehead gently. “You will be, darling. You can be anything you want to be.”

 

Jim wrapped an arm around Freddie’s waist and kissed Oliver’s cheek; the little boy blushed with delight. After all this time, he still couldn’t get used to how loved his fathers made him feel, with their little kisses and little nicknames and the way that Freddie would lie with him until he fell asleep on the bad nights. He’d spent a long time alone, neglected, abandoned; he’d spent a long time being glossed over by a range of families that came to see him.

 

_ Oliver sat curled up on a sofa in the corner of the big room; he was trying so hard today. He’d brushed his teeth for a whole three minutes that morning and he’d made sure to brush his hair properly that morning. A lot of people had made comments about his curls, about how messy he looked, and so now he was trying to make himself neat. Living in the home had meant that he needed to grow up very quickly: there was a nice older boy that had buttoned up his shirt that morning when his little fingers had been shaking too badly. _

 

_ The formula of the families that had come to see him had all been the same. One lady, usually wearing lipstick, would come into the room first, followed by a bigger man who would stay against the wall, never trying to get involved with Oliver. The lady would smile, would ask his name, and when he didn’t reply she would frown and leave the room for a minute. _

 

_ When she came back, her smile would be tighter, and he knew that she’d say goodbye. The man would never talk to him. _

 

_ He kicked his little legs impatiently as he waited for the people to come in; he had little butterflies in his tummy. He wanted a family. _

 

_ He looked up quickly when the door opened, surprised to see a man on his own. Even more, though, he was surprised that the man looked like him: their skin was almost the same colour, and his hair was in unruly curls too. Oliver wondered, for a second, if this was his daddy that he’d never met. _

 

_ “Hi, darling!” The voice was so happy and Oliver smiled instinctively, looking up at the new man with wonder. “I’m Freddie, what’s your name?” _

 

_ Oliver paused for a minute; he didn’t trust his voice to work properly. Instead, he shakily lifted his hands - his speech therapist had started teaching him to sign when he’d refused to speak.  _

 

_ Freddie watched intently as the little boy signed the letter O, trembling fingers trying so hard, stopping to make sure he’d seen it before he moved to the letter L. He repeated it twice and twisted his hands around to make a Y, wondering if the man in front of him would think he was completely crazy. _

 

_ “Olly.” Freddie smiled and looked up at him. “Thank you for telling me, sweetheart. As I said, I’m Freddie, and I have a husband called Jim who I think you’d love a lot. I also have a little kitty called Peaches.” _

 

_ Freddie seemed perfectly happy to talk to him, and he’d been able to read his fingers; Oliver was already happy with this man. At the mention of a cat, his little face lit up. “Yeah!” Freddie smiled at his expression. “He’s black and he’s very, very fluffy. I tell you what-” Freddie glanced over at the table and grabbed some paper and pencils. “Shall we do some drawing together? We could draw pictures for each other.” _

 

_ Oliver nodded eagerly and took a pink pencil. He loved to draw. “I’ll draw you Peaches, so you can see him properly. You can draw whatever you like, darling.” _

 

_ They drew in companionable quiet; Freddie was happy to spend time with him without feeling the need to talk to fill the silence. Oliver’s little tongue poked from the corner of his mouth while he drew, using all the colours under the rainbow; Freddie was excited to see what he was drawing. _

 

_ He’d felt a little silly, really, drawing a picture of him and this man and a cat that he’d never met, but he really, really wanted Freddie to come back for another visit.  _

 

_ When Freddie was about to leave, he ran over to him and hugged his leg tightly. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed attention and affection from grown-ups, hadn’t realised how good it would feel to connect with someone like this, but when he was about to leave it came crashing down on him. He swallowed over and over, trying to wet his unused throat, and then looked up at him. _

 

_ “I like you.” He croaked, barely audible; his little arms tightened around his leg. _

 

_ Freddie smiled so widely that his cheeks hurt; he picked up the little boy and pressed a feather-light kiss to his forehead. _

 

Oliver started to giggle with joy and kissed Freddie on the lips. “I’m going to be big like you and I’m going to be a dancer too and I’m going to have a baby like you.”

 

Freddie glanced over at Jim, a look of shock on his face. “What do you mean by that, sweetheart?”

 

“You and Pop want a baby!” He smiled delightedly. “You said that Daddy’s going to look after the baby while it’s really small.”

 

“When did you hear that?” Jim asked softly. “Are you happy about that, sweetheart?”

 

“I wanted milk and Daddy was on the sofa and you were on top of him and you were kissing him and you said about a baby.” Oliver giggled. “I want a baby too!”

 

_ “You’re to die for, Daddy.” Jim said playfully; he was hovering on his elbows above his husband, who was laying beneath him and laughing. “You’re absolutely stunning.” _

 

_ “Oh, says you.” Freddie wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. “I like it when you call me that. It’ll be even truer soon.” _

 

_ “Baby Teddy.” Jim rested a hand on Freddie’s stomach with a wink and Freddie shoved him, laughing louder. _

 

_ “Don’t make it weird!” He rolled his eyes. “I’m excited to have a baby, sue me. We get to do it all from the beginning this time.” _

 

_ “You’ll get to spend so much time with the kids because you’ll be looking after him when he’s really small.” Jim smiled. “God, you’re the best man I could ask to father my kids.” _

 

_ “I think you underestimate your own role.” Freddie kissed him, long and leisurely and slow, and smiled. “What would we do without you, Pop?” _

 

“Did you tell them?” Talulah asked from the doorway. 

 

Oliver nodded and giggled as Freddie peppered his cheeks with kisses. Jim picked up Talulah and chuckled. “Were you in on this too, monster?” He asked playfully.

 

She squealed when Jim kissed her forehead. “I want a baby too!” She told him. “I can help look after it!”

 

“Darling, you don’t need to do that.” Freddie smiled. “That’s the grown-ups’ job, you’re too little.”

 

Once upon a time, she would’ve protested being too little, but now she enjoyed being too small. It wasn’t a burden anymore; it was fun.

 

Freddie glanced at Jim and smiled. Maybe they could have their little one a little sooner than they thought.

 

And maybe they were awful at keeping secrets.


	34. A Night at the Opera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie is a nervous wreck.

_ Remember when you'd sing, just for the fuck of it, and the joy it would bring? _

 

Freddie held his hand over breakfast that morning, unusually affectionate even for him. He was staying closer, heads on shoulders and fingers intertwined and random hugs when he was trying to do his share of the morning chores. Sometimes, he really could act like Jim’s third child, reassured by physical closeness and gentle touches, looking up to him for protection and love and attention. The way he’d achieve closeness was closer to a cat than to a human; he struggled to admit when he was feeling vulnerable and unsafe, and instead would tend towards initiating contact, positioning himself under his husband’s arm, climbing into his lap if he was sat having his morning coffee.

 

Jim placed down his mug and wrapped a strong arm around his waist, the other brushing lightly through his hair. He was cuddled close, head on his husband’s shoulder, practically vibrating with nervous energy; he’d barely slept the night before, but was too wired on coffee to even consider resting now. 

 

It wasn’t until Jim glanced over at the calendar that he realised why he was so stressed: the album released today, the album he’d put his heart and soul into, the album that dealt with all of his experiences up until the present day. He smiled a little and sat further back amongst the cushions, pulling Freddie in with him, peppering his cheeks with kisses. “My darling, you have to calm down.” He said softly.

 

“Why did we release on a Friday?” Freddie blurted out. “Because the chart listings come out tomorrow and we’re disadvantaged against everyone that released on Monday and has had the whole week to sell but if we do well next week then that doesn’t matter because it’s not the week of release.”

 

“Freddie.” Jim said softly. “Darling, breathe. Whatever happens to the chart listings, sweetheart, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you put your best work into that album.” He gently kissed his forehead.

 

“I just-” Freddie paused and took a long breath. “I really want it to go down well, darling, I’ve worked so hard on it. It’s like- it’s like it’s a part of me.”

 

“Why don’t we go and see how it’s doing at lunch?” Jim suggested. “We’ve got a rehearsal this morning, and then we can get the Bakerloo over to Oxford Street and see how it’s doing in HMV. Or we can just go to the Covent one, if you want.”

 

“Let’s go to Oxford Street.” He said quickly. “They’ll have more stock, it’ll be more representative. If they’ve only sold three of a hundred copies, I know not to get my hopes up.”

 

* * *

 

The Bakerloo line was hot that day; outside was sweltering, and the tube only seemed to magnify the heat. Freddie stood close to him, taking comfort in the arm around his waist, trying not to jitter out of his own skin. “Maybe it’s better not to know.” He said quietly. “If I go in and no one’s bought it, it’s going to be-”

 

“Freddie, you’re catastrophising.” Jim said, voice firmer. “Think about those thousands of people that have paid and travelled to see you in venues around London. Think about the thousands of people that bought Rhapsody when it came out on single. I promise, darling, that people will be buying it.”

 

He nodded, hands trembling as they walked out of the station. “What’s the worst that can happen?” He asked, trying to sound relaxed, though he was unconvincing. 

 

They walked into the shop and Freddie looked around quickly. “Did they not display it?” He asked quietly. “Did something go wrong with the shipment? Did I get the day-”

 

“Hi there.” Jim tugged Freddie along beside him as he went over to a shop assistant. “I’m looking for a copy of A Night at the Opera, whereabouts will I find it?”

 

“No can do, I’m afraid.” She smiled apologetically. “We sold out at about ten this morning. We’ve been calling around but we haven’t got any left in stock in London. We should be getting another shipping tomorrow morning if that’s any help?”

 

“That’s wonderful.” Jim smiled back. “How many did you have in stock?”

 

“We put in an order for two hundred, because there was a lot of buzz around it. We sold a hundred in the first hour of opening.” She chuckled. “It’s done well.”

 

Freddie squeezed his hand and smiled, propping his sunglasses up on top of his head. “Any other Queen records in stock?”

 

The girl took one look at him and her lips parted in awe. “I- I, oh, I mean, I don’t know.” She blushed. “We sold our last Queen II this morning, I know that-” She paused for a moment. “We might still have some Rhapsody singles, Mr. Mercury, sir.”

 

Freddie couldn’t help but laugh. “Thank you, darling.” He smiled at her. “That’s good to know.”

 

They were about to turn away when the girl quickly spoke up. “I- I was wondering, if it’s okay with you, if I could have a photo?” She asked shyly. “It’s just, you’re one of my favourite singers, and I can’t believe I was so distracted that I didn’t realise it was you-”

 

Freddie smiled. “Of course. But I must warn you that I’m on my lunch break and I simply can’t afford to be late back.”

 

“Two seconds.” The girl ran off to find a camera and Jim chuckled.

 

“She’ll be back with the whole staff team, you watch. We’ll definitely be late back.” He kissed him lightly.

 

“Well, darling-” Freddie teased a hand through his hair. “Apparently I’ve just dropped the album of the year, so I’m sure they’ll be fine. Now, sort my hair out for me, I’m sure I look a mess.” He grinned.

 

* * *

 

Talulah giggled incessantly as Jim bounced her on his knee. They’d taken the District back to Kensington just to take the children back to Covent; the Royal was running a special baby ballet class and they’d gone a little early so that they could see the big Queen stall in the Covent HMV. Oliver was looking around with a wide smile - the tube was a rare treat, and he always found the bustle of people exciting. Today, Freddie was stood up, carrying Oliver on his hip, while Jim sat with Talulah. 

 

Both children gasped as the lights went off, and squealed when they came back on. Freddie couldn’t stop himself from laughing, lifting up Oliver so that he could touch the striplight at the top of the carriage. “Daddy, it went dark!” He giggled, looping one little arm around Freddie’s neck.

 

“I know, sweetheart!” Freddie chuckled and kissed his cheek gently. “It’s your magic fingers. You made it go dark.” He said playfully.

 

Oliver giggled at the idea and reached up to touch it again; as he did, it went dark again. He gasped and turned back to Freddie. “Daddy, I’m magic!”

 

“Olly’s magic!” Talulah told Jim, little mouth agape. “My brother’s magic, Pop!”

 

Jim loved to hear them refer to each other as brother and sister; he couldn’t ask for better, more accepting, more loving children. Oliver had barely even blinked when Talulah joined the family, had just accepted her as a playmate and friend, someone to share a bath with and share a bed with and to defend at night. He was her big brother, and he would always look after her, even if she was less than a year younger than him.

 

Freddie sat beside them when the seat was vacated; Oliver tentatively reached out to touch Talulah’s teddy bear, feeling its soft little paws with his fingers. “Pop, can we get another kitty?” He asked hopefully.

 

Freddie grinned widely; he’d been asking for another cat for a while, and now his son was joining in the fight. Jim smiled and leaned on the arm of the chair, glancing quickly at Freddie with a knowing look before turning back to his son. “What kind of kitty, darling?”

 

“An orange one.” He nodded confidently. “With a pink nose. Peaches is all black!” He laughed. “Then me and Lulah can have a kitty each. Then we can get a new one for the baby.”

 

Oliver was so excited at the idea that they might have a new brother soon, and it melted Freddie’s heart. “What should we call it?”

 

“Honey!” Talulah said quickly. “Peaches and Honey. And then Treacle.” She giggled and Oliver looked over at her with wonder.

 

“Treacle!” He nodded. “I like Treacle, Daddy.”

 

Freddie chuckled and nodded. “Treacle, a little orange kitty with a pink nose.” He put on his best puppy eyes and looked at Jim. “Please, Pop?”

 

“Please, Pop?” Oliver echoed.

 

Jim scrunched his nose playfully and stood up as they got to their station. “We’ll have to see what you get for your birthday, darling.” He said cryptically and winked.

 

Oliver chattered as they walked through the streets of Covent; Talulah was a little quieter, happily listening to their conversation and clutching onto her bear. As soon as they walked into the store, though, she was squealing with excitement. “It’s Daddy!” She said loudly, pointing to a picture above a near-empty stand of vinyls. “And Uncle Bri and Uncle Rog and Uncle John!”

 

Oliver looked around quickly and started to giggle. “It’s Daddy!” He echoed, and Freddie couldn’t help his smile as he looked down at his children.

 

“Remember when Daddy did all that singing?” Jim asked them. “And he had to try and hold you when he was being super loud? Well, that’s because Daddy’s a singer and you can get his music all over the world.”

 

Freddie placed Oliver on the ground and then had to run after him as he headed straight for the stand, enthralled by little badges and pins that he could see. He picked one up, shakily reading that it said Freddie’s name, and then started to giggle. “You’re not Mercury!” He shook his head. “You’re Hutton like me!”

 

“Will I get to be Hutton too, Pop?” Talulah asked quietly. “I want to be like you and Daddy and Olly.”

 

“Really soon, sweetheart.” Jim promised. “It’s because Daddy and I foster you, and we’ve adopted Olly. But really soon, we’ll get to adopt you too!”

 

“Really?” She gasped. “You want me forever?”

 

“Forever and ever and ever. Even when I’m a hundred years old.” He smiled. “And then you’ll be Hutton too.”

 

“Freddie Mercury!” A man stared over at them. “Oh my God!”

 

Freddie glanced at Jim as a murmur started through the shop and laughed shyly, taking Oliver’s hand as he spoke to a few different people. “Daddy?” He asked loudly. “Daddy, who are these people?”

 

“I’m just meeting some new people, darling.” Freddie chuckled and picked up his son; he turned away a little to focus in on his son. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

 

He nodded and smiled, curling up to his father. “Everybody likes you, Daddy. It makes me feel happy.” He said honestly. “I want everyone to like me too!”

 

“Is that your son?” A younger man asked, and Freddie looked over warily. He was inclined to trust people until his children became involved; then he immediately became protective. He always had half an ear out for homophobes around his children.

 

“Why?” He asked quickly, holding Oliver a little closer.

 

“He’s-” The man laughed a little. “He’s adorable. Did you adopt him?”

 

Freddie lit up as Oliver started to giggle. “I’m Oliver Hutton and I’m four and Daddy adopted me six months ago!” He said proudly. 

 

“Bear!” Freddie chuckled. “It was a little bit of a tricky process, but we did adopt him, yes.”

 

“How was that as a gay couple?” He asked shyly. “I just- my boyfriend and I, we didn’t know you could until we heard you on the radio.”

 

Freddie bounced Oliver a little when he started to wriggle, quickly glancing around to see Jim idly chatting to some people in a quieter corner. “We were lucky with our agency. So long as we passed the same tests as the other couples, we were all treated as equals. They shouldn’t treat you any differently.”

 

“And Daddy came to visit me and we drew pictures and then Daddy brought me a sweater!” Oliver smiled. “And then I got to stay with Daddy and Pop for the weekend and we made popcorn and Daddy gave me my blankie when I couldn’t sleep-”

 

“You’re such a chatterbox.” Freddie chuckled and kissed his forehead. “You can try fostering if you want to. I’m fostering my little girl at the moment and soon I’ll be adopting her too.”

 

* * *

 

Freddie lay with his back to Jim’s chest, smiling sleepily. “She’s going to have the best birthday ever.” He said softly. “I can’t wait for her to have a proper birthday.”

 

“We’re still going to the beach, right?” Jim nuzzled his neck and pressed kisses to the warm skin. “Lulah’s been asking all day.”

 

“Of course we are. We’re going to play in the waves and collect shells.” He smiled wider. “The beach seems to be her favourite thing in the whole world.”

  
  
“I think it’s because it was one of the first proper days out she’d ever been on. I think she loved to splash about with Bear and to be free.” He paused for a moment. “I think they love being children again.”

 

“I love watching them be children.” Freddie said quietly. “I love watching them rediscover childhood. Bear was so grown up when I first met him, and it’s so nice to see him being little again.”

 

“Daddy?” Talulah asked quietly, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Pop?”

 

Freddie looked around quickly. “Yes, sweetness?”

 

“Can’t sleep. Olly’s asleep.” She said softly. “Cuddles?”

 

He carefully picked her up and kissed the top of her head. “Of course, darling. Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: hey, this chapter is pretty mundane, but I guess I'll put it up anyway  
> Everyone: we live for the domestic  
> Me: validated


	35. Midnight Phone Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kash surprises him from nowhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a plot twist no one was expecting!
> 
> If you can name the chapter that repetition comes from, I will be very impressed!

_ Freddie giggled as he was half-dragged to the bar, the fingers around his wrist gentle yet insistent. He’d long ago learned to tell good from bad. He let himself be pressed against the counter, his hands sliding up and over the stranger’s chest, his neck, cheeks and then back into his hair again. He heard the low rumble of his drink being ordered, watched the way his Adam’s apple moved as he talked: he wanted to press a kiss to it and then lower, lower. _

 

_ Freddie hiccuped as the man glanced back down at him, grinning widely. “Can I kiss you?” He asked, and Freddie was initially taken aback by the question. Men at Heaven were so insistent, touched and grabbed and asked permission later in the night. He responded by moving one of his arms to wrap around the back of his neck, and then he kissed him. _

 

_ The kiss was naughty, and Freddie knew it, but there was something between the two bottles of wine and the seemingly endless mundanity of life that had him craving genuine, gentle touch from another person. When he wasn’t a trophy, Freddie was a burden to Paul, and he knew it: he knew that the words seemed to be less kind with each day that passed, that the occasional slap had turned into an almost-daily occurrence, erupting over the most minor of things. Laundry folded wrong, too short answers to questions, playing the piano at the wrong time, even getting out of bed at the wrong time. He hadn’t been concussed again, and he could at least be thankful for that, but he was beginning to hate living his everyday life. _

 

_ The stranger’s lips were soft against his, none of the urgency that Freddie had been expecting. They had a comforting warmth, one that seemed to thaw through his cold skin. He tasted different to how Freddie had imagined, but he tasted right, somehow: he had expected saccharine sweetness, the perfect partner to a situation that was too idyllic for even his situation. What he got instead was red wine against his lips, red wine and cigarettes and the hint of an overbearing mint from previous chewing gum. It was so human, and Freddie clung onto it, pulled him in closer. _

 

_ The stranger let his hands clutch onto Freddie’s waist: he was so tiny, but his muscles were so firm under his touch. He could feel firm swellings, as though he were bruised, and some places were warmer than others. He pulled away uncertainly, letting his hands hold that waist so tightly. “Are you okay?” He asked, his forehead still pressed against Freddie’s, looking into the dark eyes below him. _

 

_ “Shut up and kiss me.” Freddie murmured, bringing him back into that toxic embrace. He was as enticing as a siren, but the stranger knew by now that something was off, that he was too desperate for this. He let himself indulge for a little while longer, his hands firm but careful on his body. _

 

_ “I’m serious.” He murmured as he pulled away from the kiss again. “Do you need someone to get you out of here?” Freddie’s eyes met his again, seeming to express so many emotions at once. The stranger wondered if he was trying to escape something in his mind.  _

 

_ Freddie paused for a moment, and his fingers twisted in the fabric of the stranger’s shirt. He thought about the argument over his clothes, the fight that morning that had left him cleaning blood from his eyebrow before he went to work; he was being coaxed into a false sense of safety that was wrong, oh-so-wrong. “Yes.” He said softly, biting his lip lightly.  _

 

_ The stranger cupped his cheek gently, pulling back the collar of his shirt lightly to reveal the smudge of a bruise across his chest. “Who did this to you?” He asked quietly. _

 

_ “My boyfriend.” Freddie’s voice was barely more than a whisper, but his heart pounded with excitement and nerves. “He beats me.” _

 

_ “You poor thing.” His fingers gently ran over the scar on his forehead. “Have you got anywhere to go?” _

 

_ Freddie shook his head. “I’m trapped.” He whispered, the reality of it all crashing over his head. _

 

_ “Let’s go.” The stranger’s fingers were warm in his as they squeezed his cold hand. “I know a back exit.” _

 

_ Freddie’s heart pounded as he followed the stranger, his mind screaming that it was too dangerous to play like that. His mind, though, his conscious, sober mind, questioned if it was any less dangerous than staying.  _

 

_ The night air practically choked him, tasting like freedom. He took his first proper glance at the stranger, at the man who might just have saved his life; he was met with a warm smile. “I’m Jim, by the way.” _

 

_ “Freddie.” He said softly. He looked down at their intertwined fingers and smiled shyly; he laughed a little when Jim squeezed his fingers and kissed his temple. _

 

_ “Well, Freddie, I’m afraid that my shitty flat doesn’t have a spare room, but you can take my bed and I’ll take the sofa.” He offered warmly. _

 

_ When Freddie fell asleep that night, it was tucked up in a warm bed, an arm slung loosely around his waist; sex-mussed hair tickled the back of his neck and he smiled, hugging the pillow close- _

 

Freddie woke quickly when the phone began to ring; he yawned and stretched as he glanced at the clock.

 

Just gone midnight.

 

He frowned and stood up, jogging down the stairs quickly and picking up the phone. “Hello?” He yawned again and sat on the floor.

 

“Freddie?” He heard a feminine voice and was momentarily startled. 

 

“Kash?” He asked. “Are you alright?” She was never one to phone late at night; she’d only done it once before when she’d had a fight with Roger and he’d thrown a plate halfway across the room.

 

He hadn’t tried that shit again since Freddie had threatened to knock out his teeth.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright. Are you free at the moment?” She asked.

 

“If this is just a catch-up, darling, I’m delighted to hear from you but it’s Talulah’s birthday in about six hours and I really need sleep.” He chuckled. “What’s up?”

 

“It’s not a catch-up.” She blurted out quickly. “Listen, Fred, I didn’t know who else to talk to. You’re the expert on all this stuff.”

 

“You’re making no sense.” He yawned again and closed his eyes, curling his knees up towards his chest. “What am I the expert on? Ballet?”

 

“Shit, Freddie.” She replied; he could almost see her shaking her head. “You’re about to be an uncle.”

 

“Wait, what the fuck?” He replied quickly. “Kash- I- congratulations, dear!” He chuckled, suddenly so much more awake. “Does Rog know?”

 

“Not yet.” She sounded pleased with his reaction. “I didn’t tell you because I thought you’d freak out, but we kind of agreed that we were going to try together.”

 

Freddie’s cheeks were warm with happiness. “I’m so happy for you!” He chuckled. “Darling, children are a delight and you’ll love your little one so much. You need to tell Roger right away.”

 

“I will.” She paused for a second. “How did you tell Jim? Obviously, you weren’t pregnant-”

 

Freddie laughed. “That’s Jim’s weird feminisation thing.”

 

Kash yelped loudly. “Too much information!” She laughed. “But you must have had a conversation about kids. You can’t just have adopted Olly without telling him.”

 

Freddie chuckled. “Darling, I haven’t been completely telling you everything either. Jim and I are going to have a baby too. Number three.” He smiled. “I just blurted it out when I thought he was asleep. It sounds to me like Rog already wants a baby, so it should be good news. Just show him the test.”

 

“How do you bring it up?” She asked quietly. “I mean, I don’t want to wake him up-”

 

“Are you even serious?” Freddie asked loudly. “Kash, shit, you’re having his baby! Wake him the fuck up and show him the test.”

 

“What if he isn’t happy?” She asked quietly. “What if I’m not a good mother? What if we can’t get childcare?”

 

“I’ll have it.” Freddie chuckled. “I’m joking, but I’m also serious. You need rid of the baby for an evening, Jim and I’ll have it. We’ve always got room for another.”

 

“Can you teach me what to do?” She asked shyly. “I know you used to foster those babies-”

 

“Still do. I do one-day accommodation.” He smiled. “You won’t need teaching, darling, it’s so natural. But of course, I can be on hand to help out with anything that’s tricky.” He said softly. “You’re going to be wonderful. Calm down.”

 

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Fred. I hope Olly and Lulah are excited about it.”

 

“They’ll love it. Jim and I weren’t planning to adopt for another couple of years, but now they’re incessantly pestering us to find out when the little one is going to arrive. It’ll be like Christmas for them.” Freddie chuckled. “Now go and tell your boyfriend and stop being all emotional down the phone to me. I’ll come and see you after Lulah’s birthday before I go to Bali.”

 

“Deal.” She chuckled. “I’ll save the test for you.”

 

“Oh, I’d love to see something covered in your piss.” Freddie joked. “I love you. I’ll see you soon.”

 

“Love you too!” She was almost singing as she hung up the phone.

 

Freddie put down the receiver and looked around his dark house, smiling to himself. It was just the perfect place to host for a big family, about to become even bigger. He swore that soon he’d do a big garden party for everyone, or maybe even Christmas.

 

“Who was that?” Jim asked sleepily as he walked down the stairs. “You were very loud.”

 

“Kash is having a baby.” He smiled. “And because I’m the resident expert on children, I was the first to find out. She’s about to tell Roger.”

 

“He’ll have a heart attack.” Jim smiled warmly.

 

“Apparently they’d agreed to try. Besides, he’s always been so good with ours.” Freddie walked over to his husband. “I don’t know why she couldn’t have done the test at a more sociable hour.”

 

Jim laughed and kissed him gently. “Nerves, I imagine.” He offered.

 

“Probably.” He conceded. “I promised to go and see her before we go to Bali.”

 

“Sounds good.” He nodded and pecked Freddie’s lips again. “Shall we go back to bed?”

 

“Please.” Freddie chuckled. “I’m knackered.”

 

“I’m not surprised, darling.” Jim kissed his cheek as they walked back upstairs.

 

_ When Freddie fell asleep that night, it was tucked up in a warm bed, an arm slung loosely around his waist; sleep-mussed hair tickled the back of his neck and he smiled, hugging the pillow close- _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Iridescent bubbles slowly in the background]


	36. Red Pointe Shoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talulah's birthday, and a surprise request.

Talulah glanced over at Oliver, her little face alive with happiness and excitement. She’d woken him up far too early, but he didn’t mind; they’d cuddled while Oliver had woken properly, Talulah babbling with excitement about the sandcastle they could make that day. Oliver smiled and tucked his head into the crook of hers as he yawned, the same move he’d seen Freddie do a thousand times on Jim; she pecked his cheek playfully and then hugged him.

 

“Can we wake them?” She asked hopefully. “Please, Olly, please?”

 

Oliver loved being the big brother, the one who had the power to make the tricky decisions, the one that could be protective of his little sister. He liked having Talulah as his responsibility, and she liked having him there to make the decisions; she reminded him of the family he’d lost when he was abandoned and he helped her forget the days when she’d been all alone in charge of the baby. They were best friends, completely inseparable.

 

It was Oliver that whispered the meaning of tricky words to her when Freddie read, Oliver that had taught her to do sums on her fingers when she kept being picked on in their classes. He was right at the beginning of the academic year, September the sixth, while she was August the eighteenth: they belonged to the same year, but Oliver had nearly a whole year on Talulah.

 

He sat up in the bed and yawned, smiling to himself. He still wasn’t sure how or why he’d ended up in this house, but he was thankful for it. “Yes.” He giggled and jumped down from the bed. “Happy birthday, Lulah.” He said sweetly.

 

Her cheeks went pink with delight; she’d forgotten. “It’s my birthday!” She squealed. “I’m four now!”

 

Jim’s favourite thing about the children was the way they’d open the bedroom door a crack to look through. One would look through first - usually Talulah in her eagerness - and then the second would look to double-check that the coast was clear - usually Oliver, infinitely sensible. When they’d both agreed that it was safe, they’d run into the room and hurl themselves onto the bed, more often than not landing on a part of Freddie that was inevitably sore.

 

Today, it was his ankle.

 

“It’s my birthday!” Talulah bounced on the bed and squealed as Jim swept her up in strong arms. “Pop, I’m four now!”

 

“I know, darling!” He chuckled and kissed her forehead. “You’re the same age as Bear now.”

 

Freddie, despite being an early riser, was the more reluctantly conscious of the two - he rested his face in the pillow, the blanket tucked up to his ears. He was doing a very good impression of being asleep, but Jim knew he was awake; he’d seen one eye crack open when the children had run in, checking that they were happy.

 

Oliver was calmer that morning; as Talulah bounced on Jim’s chest, as he playfully lifted her up above his head, Oliver headed instead for the sleeping Freddie. He lay beside his daddy, smiling when Freddie yawned and held an arm out for his son. He settled against Freddie’s chest, holding onto him closely. He had days when he wasn’t so vocal, when he preferred to be close and to not have to speak, and Freddie was always the best on those days, never forcing his son to speak.

 

“Happy birthday, Lulah.” Freddie said with a sleepy smile and opened one eye. 

 

“Daddy!” She giggled and cuddled up to him, pressing a kiss to Freddie’s cheek. “Daddy, I’m big now like Olly!”

 

“I know, darling.” He yawned and kissed her head. “You’re a very big girl, sweetness.”

 

Jim leaned over to get the little box from beneath the bed. Inside the box were a multitude of presents, all wrapped diligently by Freddie in tissue paper every colour of the rainbow. “Daddy, Olly and I got you some presents, sweetheart, for your birthday. Do you want to open them now?”

 

She nodded eagerly and crawled up to him; Freddie sat up against the headboard and Oliver watched from a comfortable place against his chest. “Which ones are mine, Pop?” She asked, forever polite. “Which are Olly’s?”

 

Freddie smiled. They’d been very careful to include Oliver in all the preparations for Talulah’s birthday, knowing that she’d have her first birthday with them before he got the chance to do it too: Oliver was completely understanding that it was her turn, and that it would be his in a few weeks’ time. “They’re all yours, princess. It’s Olly’s in a few weeks.”

 

“Mine?” She asked softly. “Should I give one to Olly? Then he’s got one too.”

 

“You don’t have to worry about Olly.” Jim smiled. “When it’s his birthday he’ll get all the presents too. That’s how it works.”

 

“Oh!” She nodded her understanding. “Can I open the red one first?”

 

“Go for it!” Freddie smiled excitedly; it was his favourite present he’d bought.

 

Her little fingers tore at the wrapping paper and she gasped with delight. “Daddy!” She squealed as she pulled out a little red pair of satin split-sole ballet shoes. “Daddy, they’re like yours!”

 

“They’re just like mine.” Freddie smiled and grabbed his shoes from his bag beside the bed. “Look, darling.”

 

She compared the size of them and laughed. She felt the hard end of Freddie’s in comparison to the soft end of her own and glanced up curiously. “Why are mine soft, Daddy?” She asked him.

 

“You dance on this bit of your foot.” Freddie gently tapped the ball of her foot. “Whereas sometimes I dance on the very tips of my toes. When I do that, I have to have hard blocks in my shoes to help me protect my toes.”

 

“It also helps make your daddy taller, because he’s really very small.” Jim joked and squeezed Freddie’s waist playfully. “And all the ladies are taller than him.”

 

“Hey!” Freddie smiled and kissed him playfully. “They’re purely technical.”

 

Talulah put them on her feet and Freddie helped her tie the drawstring to the right tightness. He put his on and they stood up together, dancing together to the faint music of the radio.

 

“Can I join in?” Oliver asked softly, watching the two of them.

 

“Of course you can.” Freddie smiled and leaned down to kiss his head. “Your special shoes are in your room, darling, aren’t they?”

 

Oliver nodded and ran off; he came back with a pair of baby-blue split-soles, Freddie’s other favourites. “I have these!” He said excitedly as he joined in their dancing.

 

Jim laid back on the bed and yawned, watching his family contentedly; he’d never meant to be the head of a family of ballerinas, but he couldn’t be more delighted with how it had turned out.

 

* * *

 

“I’m so late.” Freddie apologised as he jogged up the stairs to Kash’s flat. The tube had only taken half an hour to get to her, but his rehearsals had overrun by nearly forty-five minutes and so he was turning up late and disgustingly sweaty. “God, I’m so sorry, darling, they just ran on forever and ever-”

 

“Freddie!” She hugged him tightly and smiled. “Oh, don’t you worry, it’s good to see you. I haven’t seen you in forever.”

 

“That’s because you’re busy working night shifts and I’m busy raising children.” Freddie smiled. “Speaking of which, how’s your little one?” He asked softly. He toed off his trainers and closed the door behind him.

 

“We’re so good.” Kash rested a hand instinctively on her stomach. “Can I get you a cup of tea?”

 

“Please.” Freddie smiled and sat on the kitchen counter.

 

“Black?” She offered instinctively; she’d never known him take it any other way.

 

“Milk and sugar, please.” He said softly. 

 

“That’s a change of heart.” She smiled and took the milk from the fridge.

 

“I never actually liked black tea.” Freddie chuckled. “I was just scared of the calories of milk and sugar. Now, I don’t care.”

 

“It’s nice to see you so healthy.” Kash smiled. “That husband of yours is treating you well, I trust?”

 

“As always.” He laughed and took his mug gratefully. “Anyway, darling, who cares about me? I want to know about baby Bulsara.”

 

“I’m about twelve weeks.” She smiled; she looked as though she was glowing. “And I’m starting to show a little. We’ve got a scan booked for next week when I’ll get to know them for the first time.”

 

“And your gut feeling?” Freddie asked excitedly. “Boy or girl?”

 

“Girl.” She said immediately. “I don’t- I don’t know why. It’s just a feeling.” She walked over and sat in the chair beside him. 

 

“Can I feel?” Freddie asked softly. “It’s alright if that’s weird, but I just- it’s exciting.” He chuckled. “It’s the bit of kids that I’ll never get to have.”

 

“It’s a wonderful feeling.” She smiled. “Go ahead.”

 

Freddie carefully rested his hand on her stomach and smiled; he could feel the faintest bump under his hand. “It’s so weird to think that you’re going to be a mum soon.”

 

“I don’t have to be jealous of Olly and Lulah anymore.” She said happily. “When are you getting your little one?”

 

“I don’t know.” Freddie chuckled. “We want a little boy. We have to wait for an expectant mother to get in touch with the agency, which is pretty rare. Most of the kids are a bit older, because babies are more desirable than toddlers.”

 

“That’s a strange idea. Being dependent on other people.” She smiled. “Have you thought of any names?”

 

“Theodore. Shortened to Teddy.” Freddie smiled. “We might stop there. It depends on how much I can wrap Jim around my little finger. What are you going to call yours?”

 

“I don’t know.” Kash smiled shyly. “It’s so much to think about. I’ve just about gotten my head around the fact that I’m pregnant.”

 

The door opened with a quick click in the lock and Freddie heard Roger’s happy voice. “Honey, I’m home!” He called out playfully, glancing into the kitchen. “Oh, Freddie, you’re here!”

 

“Hello, darling.” He chuckled. “We’re doing baby talk.”

 

“They’re having another baby.” Kash leaned up and pecked his lips lightly.

 

“You’re prolific.” Roger chuckled. “But I’m sure we’ll catch up.”

 

“We haven’t actually got the child yet. It might be for a few years yet.” Freddie shrugged. “All in good time.”

 

“Freddie, while you’re here, can I entice you into a cigarette with me on the balcony?” Roger proffered his packet. “I wanted to ask you something.”

 

“I’ll have to remind you, darling, that I’m both a principal dancer and a singer and I’d never blacken my lungs in that kind of way.” He gently pushed the packet away. “However, I’ll accompany you.” He stood up and winked at Kash. “Baby talk to boy talk.”

 

Roger held open the door for him as he went out. “How are you doing with Jim?” Roger asked softly. “I know you were a little rocky about a month ago.”

 

“Oh, we smoothed all that out. We’re wonderful.” Freddie smiled and leaned on the balustrade. “We fly off to Bali tomorrow for our honeymoon, finally.”

 

“Bali?” He whistled. “The career must be doing you well.”

 

“It’s just the casual life of multi-millionaires.” He joked and winked. “Honestly, darling, if you’re worried about me then you needn’t be. I’m very happy.”

 

“That wasn’t the only thing I wanted to ask you.” Roger smiled shyly. “Obviously, I mean, you know the news. You knew it before me.” He chuckled. “I was wondering, I- I don’t know if you remember that I asked your permission before I asked her out on that first date, but now I want to ask you something else.”

 

“You could ask my father now, darling, you know?” He chuckled.

 

“He’s too intimidating.” Roger smiled bashfully. “I want to- I want to marry her, Freddie.”

 

Freddie smiled and looked over at him. “Is this just because she’s pregnant? Because it’s not 1920 anymore, Rog, and you can have kids without being married.”

 

“You did.” He pointed out. “And it’s not even like you were pregnant.”

 

“That’s because those steps felt natural for us. Don’t try and force it.” Freddie said softly. “By all means, marry her. But marry her for love, and that’ll keep you together forever.”

 

“I do love her.” He smiled. “We’ve been together almost as long as you and Jim. I can’t imagine being with anyone else.”

 

“Better.” Freddie smiled. “By all means, you have my permission to take my sister’s hand in marriage. Now you just have to get hers.”

 

 

 

END OF PART THREE

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more part to go! Now's probably the time to mention that Iridescent will be coming soon (in case you hadn't gotten the hints I've been dropping) and will cover a lot of what is being set up now...


	37. Tattoos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christening the marriage suite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty much pure smut (apart from the ending!) and contains my favourite line I've ever written!

By all accounts, Jim considered his sex life to be more interesting than most. Freddie had an obscenely high sex drive, and he’d gotten used to deciphering the small touches and little looks that promised him bliss before the evening was over. He never felt as though they had sex for the sake of it; every time they made love, it was deep and passionate and just a different way of expressing love aside from their love and support in everyday life. People sometimes mocked him for the lack of variety in his partners; he hadn’t had sex with someone other than Freddie for the best part of eight years, and by all accounts, married sex was supposed to be dull.

 

Freddie threw his head back and panted out a moan; the form of him on top of Jim, riding him as hard as he could, made a stark contrast to the bright sky and the cerulean blue waves lapping at the open French doors. Jim gasped and gripped onto his hips, pulling him down harder, eager for more: Freddie was vice-tight around his cock, smooth and hot and gorgeous. “God-” He groaned when he clenched and thrust up, hard. “You’re so fucking beautiful, you’ve no idea.”

 

“Some idea, darling.” Freddie grinned and rocked his hips, shuddering with pleasure when Jim’s cock hit his sweet spot. “That’s it- right there- _fuck-”_ He moaned loudly as Jim complied, thrusting up as hard as he could into that spot.

 

“You’ve got to be quiet.” Jim spoke, though his voice was fractured and a little too loud himself. “We’ve got the fucking doors open-”

 

“So what?” Freddie’s grin was wide and cocky and he moaned up at the ceiling as he sunk down again. “God, fuck me, fuck me, I can’t-”

 

“Can we try something new?” Jim asked as Freddie stilled, just rocking his hips back and forth, catching his breath. “Something we haven’t done before?”

 

“Depends on what it is.” Freddie let his head hang forward and moaned as Jim’s cock caught his sweet spot again.

 

“I want to eat you out.” Jim couldn’t help it if he blushed. “I want you to sit on my face.”

 

“Shit.” Freddie moaned at the idea and nodded eagerly. “Yes, fuck, please, I want that.”

 

“I haven’t done this in forever.” Jim gripped his hips as he pulled off slowly. “Tell me if you don’t like it, or if I do something that hurts or doesn’t feel good.”

 

“Okay.” Freddie said softly, breathing hitched with excitement as he crawled over Jim, grabbing onto the headboard as Jim gripped onto the join between his thighs and ass. His thighs already burned from riding his cock, and his cock twitched with excitement as Jim nipped the soft skin of his ass.

 

He moaned at the lightest touch of his tongue, lazy circles that drove him fucking insane, had him trembling in seconds. Freddie was insanely sensitive, and Jim took full advantage, teasing him with hot breaths and alternating between light, teasing licks and sensual thrusts with his tongue. He kissed hotly at his perineum, making Freddie cry out in ecstasy, fingers digging into his thighs, the sweet side of possessive.

 

He tilted his head back, gasping for breath as a finger slipped inside and teased his prostate; his cock throbbed urgently, too wound up to last. He pressed his hips down a little and felt Jim’s resulting moan more than he heard it. “Jim-” He moaned. “Darling, _please-”_

 

Jim sucked teasingly at his rim and added a second finger, letting Freddie bounce on his fingers. He held his hips in place and pulled back to breathe a little, grinning up at Freddie. “Touch yourself, darling, come for me.”

 

“Fuck!” Freddie moaned as he dragged his tongue over his perineum again, wrapping a hand around his cock and fucking forward into his fist. “Fucking hell, Jim, _please-”_ He gasped as his tongue slipped in with his fingers, panting loudly at the ceiling.

 

Jim curled his fingers and Freddie cried out as his cock pulsed, coming all over his chest and thighs in a haze of pleasure. “Shit…” He moaned, tilting his head back as Jim’s tongue stroked over his rim, dragging out the aftershocks. “Darling, that was fucking incredible.”

 

Freddie moved back and kissed Jim lazily, tasting himself on his lips. “That was so fucking hot.” Jim shifted his hips against Freddie’s and he whimpered a little with the sensitivity.

 

“What do you want?” Freddie grinned against his lips. “I want to make you feel good.” He whispered sensually.

 

“Fuck me.” Jim moaned as Freddie kissed hotly down his neck. “You haven’t in so long, darling, please.”

 

“Fuck.” Freddie bit at the join between his shoulder and his neck just to hear the resulting whimper. “Hands and knees, gorgeous.”

 

Freddie grabbed the lube and slicked his fingers as Jim lay before him, almost trembling with want. He pressed a row of sweet kisses from the small of his bag down to his hole, slipping one finger inside and delighting in how quickly Jim gasped and moaned. “That feel good, darling?” Freddie whispered playfully.

 

“Don’t tease me.” Jim rested his forehead against the cool pillow and gasped. “I don’t need much, Fred, sweetheart, please.”

 

“Let me take care of you.” Freddie whispered, pumping one finger in and out for a few moments before adding another. “Three or four? How tight do you want to be for me, darling?”

 

Sometimes it astounded Jim that Freddie knew all the right words to have him on edge so quickly; he’d never have imagined that such a shy man would have the filthiest tongue. “Three.” He said quietly, rocking his hips backward. “Three, gorgeous.”

 

“Three.” Freddie kissed the back of his neck. “I can do that.”

 

Jim cried out as he added the third and teased his prostate, the lightest of pressures; Freddie knew he was too wound up already to risk much teasing. He thrust his fingers in hard, grinning and pressing a hot kiss to his tailbone. Jim moaned and glanced back over at Freddie, lips bitten red from trying not to moan too loudly: Freddie looked positively sinful, too fucking smug with himself.

 

It wasn’t long before Freddie was building a steady rhythm with his hips, a little too quick and a little too hard at first to be entirely comfortable, exactly the way that Jim adored. Jim bit the pillow in front of him, trying not to add to the lewd sound of Freddie’s hips slapping against his and his filthy moans. 

 

“Come on, darling.” Freddie grunted into the back of his neck. “Moan for me.”

 

“Shit, Freddie-” Jim pushed his hips back and clenched hard around his cock. “We’ll get caught!”

 

“No one cares about us, darling, we’re not breaking any rules.” He slammed into Jim’s prostate and smirked when he moaned. “We’re christening the honeymoon bed.”

 

“You’re fucking filthy.” Jim panted. “Fuck, Freddie, touch me, please!”

 

Freddie wrapped a rough hand around his cock and moaned when it made Jim tighten. “I’m not going to last.” He panted into the back of Jim’s neck. “I can’t, it’s my second-”

 

Jim thrust forward into his hand. “I’m going to come, darling, please-”

 

“Come on.” Freddie locked their lips in an embrace and pistoned into him hard and fast. “Come for me.”

 

Jim moaned and ducked his head down; when Freddie squeezed his cock and slammed into his prostate, he was gone, spilling hot over Freddie’s fist. Freddie followed him with a cry, hands tight on his hips, thrusting into his oversensitive body to ride out the aftershocks.

 

They lay before the sunset, occasionally kissing, occasionally dozing, occasionally talking, love-crazed and sex-dazed and glazed in the evening sunshine.

 

* * *

 

“I want to do something stupid.” Freddie smiled as Jim washed his hair for him, the cool water washing away all the sweat of performance and humidity.

 

“Like what?” Jim grinned and kissed the end of his nose. 

 

“I want to get a tattoo.” Freddie said softly. “But I feel like if I do that in Bali, I’m going to get some awful skin disease.”

 

“What do you want to get?” Jim squeezed his ass playfully as he turned around. “I’m sure someone must do decent tattoos here.”

 

“I want to get your initials on my hip.” He said confidently; Jim cocked a curious eyebrow. He could tell that Freddie had been thinking about this for a long while from the tone of his voice.

 

“Why the hip?” He asked curiously. 

 

“It was the last place he ever bruised me.” Freddie said softly. “My left hip. I want to cover that spot for good with your initials, because you’re the one that saved me from all that.”

 

Jim kissed him long and slow. “That’s fucking adorable, Freddie.”

 

“I think I can be safe in thinking we’ll be together forever now.” He smiled up at his husband. “You’ve put up with me for nearly eight years.”

 

“None of it has been putting up with you, sweetheart.” Jim pecked his lips again. “I’d like to get yours, too. Maybe on my ring finger, when I can’t wear my ring during performances.”

 

“That’s so cute.” He giggled. “Let’s do it.”

 

Jim cupped his cheek and grinned. “Let’s fucking do it, darling.”


	38. Peach Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's unexpected, and it's so beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg she hasn't forgotten about the fluorescent!verse??

Freddie carried lipstick with him wherever he went. He had a tube in the drawer of his dressing room, a tube at the bottom of his ballet bag, a tube in the jacket of Jim’s that he stole on a nearly daily basis, a tube on the bathroom counter, a tube by the bedroom mirror. He scrawled notes wherever he went, unerringly trusting that his husband would find each and every message, anything from dinner suggestions to bill reminders to little notes of  _ good luck!  _ and  _ I love you! _

 

It wasn’t a surprise to Jim that he’d brought a tube to Bali, his best scarlet red from his dressing room at the Royal; it wasn’t a surprise that, after dragging the bed over to the patio doors so they could sleep in the evening sunshine, he left him lovely little messages all over the windows before he went for his morning run.

 

Freddie, however, was surprised when he came back, a little out of breath and sweating from the heat of the sun, and instead of being ravished against a wall as he may or may not have expected - Jim seemed to have a thing for him like that, after all - he found a note across the window in semi-illegible handwriting.

 

_ No, Jl. Sunset Road No.27x _

 

He wondered initially if it was in code - there were too many combinations of letters that were leaving him, quite frankly, completely baffled. It wasn’t until he was stood in the shower, feeling a little bereft of his lover’s hands on his skin, that he realised - it was directions, an address, a hint of where to find him.

 

He dressed lazily, shorts, a white t-shirt and a patterned shirt of his lover’s thrown over the top, and left his hair to dry in the sunlight, before he grabbed his keys and went out to try and find Sunset Road. Jim spotted him long before he recognised his husband, leaning back against the wooden front of the shop and watched Freddie’s confused face squinting as he tried to read the address of each and every shop. He was so absorbed in his task that he was practically nose-to-nose with Jim before he realised, his cheeks immediately stained pointe-shoe pink when he realised he’d been being watched.

 

“I found you.” He offered with a shy smile. “What is this place, darling?”

 

“You found me.” Jim wrapped an arm around his waist and kissed him softly. “It only took you the best part of an hour.”

 

“Well, you didn’t give me many clues.” Freddie huffed, pouting a little.

 

“I gave you an address!” Jim kissed him again, laughing to himself. “What more did you want, darling, a carrier pigeon to bring you here?”

 

“What is here?” He asked, peeking over Jim’s shoulder. “Where have you brought me?”

 

“I’ve done a little research, darling, and this is one of the best tattoo parlours in Bali.” Jim squeezed his hand. “I thought we could get them done today. And if you’ve changed your mind, there’s also a beautiful restaurant around the corner.”

 

Freddie smiled, bright and beaming and Jim couldn’t help but smile back. “What about both?” He asked, a cheeky smile on his face. “It is my honeymoon, after all.”

 

“Oh, I like your thinking.” Jim held the door of the parlour open for him. “Shall I go first?”

 

“If you’d like.” Freddie smiled at the girl who approached them; she had vines of roses running down her arms, and Freddie thought they were beautiful. “I’m happy with anything, darling.”

 

“I’m Ezailah.” She held out her hand for Freddie. “Ezailah Rose. I’m one of the artists here, can I help you?”

 

“Yes, darling, I think you can.” He turned to Jim and grinned. “My husband and I would like tattoos.”

 

“Anything in particular?” She questioned. “Or would you like to have a look at some of our flash sheets?”

 

“Maybe you should go first, darling, I’m going to take a little longer.” Freddie smiled cryptically.

 

Jim arched an eyebrow but shrugged. “I’d like two letters on my ring finger, calligraphy if possible.”

 

“Which letters?” She asked, pen poised over her paper. “I can make that happen.”

 

“An F and a H. Joined, if possible.” His smile was shy as he looked over at Freddie.

 

“I’m glad you went with H.” Freddie leaned on the palm of his hand and watched as she drew out a few options.

 

“Are any of these good?” She offered, showing him the paper. “More or less curly?”

 

“This one-” Jim pointed to one of the smaller sketches, not too fancy. “But with the F a little more - a little softer, if that makes sense.”

 

“Absolutely.” She agreed, changing the font just slightly. “This?” 

 

“That’s perfect.” He grinned. “But small enough to fit on my ring finger.”

 

“Are they initials?” She asked, drawing it out again onto guidelines. “Whose are they?”

 

“Freddie’s.” Jim gestured to his husband and smiled. 

 

“How long have you been together?” She questioned, setting the paper aside. “Sorry for prying, I’m supposed to check these things in case of complaints. There’s a minimum threshold.”

 

“We’ve been married nearly six months.” Jim idly played with his lover’s hair. “Together for eight, engaged for four.”

 

“That’s more than enough.” She smiled over at Freddie. “Shall we design yours?”

 

“Mine’s quite big.” He informed her. “I don’t mind if Jim wants to get his done first.”

 

“No, let’s do yours.” He said excitedly. “You seem to have changed your mind.”

 

“A little.” Freddie smiled. “I want his initials on my hip bone, and I want them to link into the line art of a big rose running from my lower stomach to the top of my thigh.” He handed over a paper with the design sketched on, smiling shyly.

 

“Darling, I am a professional when it comes to roses.” She joked, looking over him quickly. “Twelve inches or so?”

 

“There or thereabouts.” He nodded, leaning over to watch as she worked. 

 

“That’s awfully big.” Jim touched his hip mindlessly. “It’ll look so beautiful on you, darling. That’s the perfect tattoo for you.”

 

Freddie smiled bashfully. “I’ve sketched it out a few times now. It’s more stylistic, I think, and I- I just wanted it as soon as I drew it out. I can cover all that skin now, completely, it’ll be brand new.”

 

“I think that’s gorgeous.” Jim linked their fingers and squeezed his hand mindlessly. “You’ll have to pad it out a little for your dance belts. Just to make sure you’re not rubbing against it when it’s so new.”

 

Freddie touched his hip and smiled. “Olga’s going to have a fit.”

 

“It’s certainly a bold move when you wear an awful lot of white.” He conceded. “Will they be okay with it?”

 

“They’ll have to be.” Freddie shrugged, a cocky grin on his face. “I’m the assoluta, it doesn’t matter if I have a tattoo. I’ll just wear a nude leotard underneath if you can see it through the costume.”

 

“So long as you’re sure.” He nodded. “One day you’ll have to let Olly colour it in for you.”

 

Freddie laughed. “Every colour of the rainbow.” He smiled. “I’m glad we chose to come here for a week. I think I’d miss the little ones too much.”

 

“We have to be back next week, anyway. Olly starts school on Thursday and his birthday is Tuesday.” Jim squeezed his hand tighter. “I couldn’t miss his first day for anything.”

 

“God, it’s his first day already?” Freddie asked. “They don’t tell you that children grow up so quickly. When I got that boy, he was four and a half, I didn’t expect him to get older.”

 

Jim chuckled and broke off as Ezailah held up a template for Freddie, based off what he’d given her. “The only thing I’ve changed is this.” She pointed to one of the leaves. “The line art was a little too heavy, it didn’t quite work with the design. What do you think of this?”

 

Freddie nodded excitedly. “I know, darling, it wasn’t working when I was drawing it.” He smiled. “It’s absolutely perfect.”

 

She smiled and stood up. “Jim, it’s probably best if I hand you over to Jem. He’s an expert when it comes to little tattoos.” She handed him his paper. “And Freddie, I’ll stick with you. Roses are my thing, after all.”

 

* * *

 

They watched the sun rise and begin to falter in the sky in that parlour, and Freddie was glowing by the time they left.

 

* * *

 

“Are you wearing my underwear?” Jim looked through his suitcase and then looked over at Freddie. He was stood in front of the mirror, twisting and turning to look at every little bit of his tattoo, dressed just in his underwear and a t-shirt he’d pulled right up to his chest.

 

“Yes.” Freddie grinned over at him. “You wear bikini style and they’re not as tight on my hips. I didn’t think I was going to be getting a tattoo when we came here.”

 

“You’re a menace.” Jim carefully wrapped his arms around him and kissed his neck from behind, humming in content. They were so comfortable with each other, so free, that he felt no embarrassment being naked around his lover. “It does look fucking incredible, though.”

 

“It’s sore.” Freddie murmured. “But I think it’s beautiful, that’s what matters. My mother is going to have a fit.”

 

Jim laughed. “I can’t imagine you ever wearing this many clothes around your mother, darling. Maybe the children at a push, if it was an emergency, but it’s mostly my viewing pleasure.”

 

“I walk around shirtless all the time.” He rolled his eyes. She can see from the hips upwards when I walk around in your sweatpants.”

 

“You could just wear those ridiculous jeans. They’ll cover it.” Jim traced a hand down his clear side and felt every ridge of muscle under his fingers. “You’re fucking ripped.”

 

Freddie laughed and leaned over his shoulder to kiss his husband. “Hardly. I’m just fit because it’s the start of the season.” He couldn’t stop his eyes from seeing what his lover did, though, a man who had learned how to look after himself, how to love himself. “I won’t be wearing anything that tight for a few weeks.”

 

“You live in ballet tights.” Jim pointed out. “You’ll have to wrap it.”

 

“I’ll wear shorts to rehearsals.” Freddie shrugged. “I’ll wrap it when I’m onstage. I’ll just have to make sure I keep it as clean as I can when I wrap it.”

 

“I can’t believe you chose that to immortalise our honeymoon.” Jim rested a hand on the curve at the side of his ass, careful not to touch the tattoo. 

 

“It’s not just our honeymoon.” Freddie insisted. “It’s everything about us. It’s immortalising every little thing you’ve done for me since I was nineteen and broken. You’ve spent years watering me back to life.” He smiled. “It’s like the sign of me. When I was drawing it, in my mind I was colouring it peach. Peach roses mean gratitude.” He turned around in his lover’s arms and kissed him lightly. “And I’m endlessly grateful for you.”

 

“You don’t have to be grateful, darling.” Jim held him carefully, blushing despite himself. “You’ve given back everything I’ve ever done. Nothing about you has ever been a chore.” He caught his lips again and smiled. “Darling, welcome to love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amazing thing about having a break from this is that I have a really strong plot in mind for the rest of this fic now!


	39. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprising news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the plot line so that I could have more inspiration (sue me I want to get back into fluorescent! verse).

Jim clasped the little girl to his chest, as close as he could possibly hold her; she was fast asleep, her cheek pressed to his bare skin, holding onto him as tight as she could. She’d missed her father more than anyone else in the whole world, more than she’d ever missed her old family, more than she’d missed Freddie - Jim was the man she trusted, the man that helped her to sleep, the man that cared for her and loved her more than anybody else in the whole world. She knew he was coming home, coming back for her, and Charlotte had reminded her of that every time she started crying for him - she’d been surrounded by his family, Finn and Dylan and Elouise and Elijah and Simon and everyone else, everyone with the same voice and the same warmth as him.

 

She just hadn’t been able to shake the fear that he wouldn’t come back for her.

 

She hadn’t let go of him since he’d come through those doors and swept her into his arms, kissing her head and telling her how much he loved her and how much he’d missed her. “You look so relaxed.” Freddie chuckled, swanning in with just his boxers on and Oliver on his hip. “Nice to be home?”

 

“So nice.” Jim lounged on the sofa, stroking Talulah’s hair. “She’s barely slept, poor thing.”

 

“Little darling.” Freddie smiled and leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “I missed them so much. I didn’t think I’d miss them as much as I did.”

 

He put Oliver down on the sofa as the phone beeped. “I’m going to check the messages. I don’t know what we’ve been missing while we’ve been away.”

 

Jim leaned up and managed to press a kiss to his jaw. “Sounds good.”

 

Freddie smiled and winked at him, going out into the hallway and picking up the phone receiver.

 

_ Freddie? Jim?  _

 

The line crackled a little.

 

_ Listen, it’s Charlotte from the adoption agency. Give me a call as soon as you get this. We’ve just found a little boy, he’s Talulah’s half brother, the same father, and he’s- God, he’s so traumatised, I don’t think he talks, I don’t know what the circumstances are but if you’re okay to take him in then I’d really like you to. _

 

“Jim?” Freddie shouted, a slight tremor in his voice. “Jim, I need you to come here.”

 

Jim frowned. “But Lulah-” He called back.

 

“Now!” Freddie said quickly. “It’s fucking important!”

 

Jim carefully lay Talulah down next to her brother and came out into the hallway. “What is it?”

 

“It was Charlotte. This morning.” He said shakily, taking Jim’s hand and squeezing it lightly. “They’ve- they’ve got a little boy. Non-verbal. She didn’t say how old he was.” He whispered. “He’s Talulah’s half brother.”

 

The colour drained from his cheeks and Freddie was momentarily frightened that he’d faint. “Talulah’s brother?”

 

“Same father.” He whispered. “She wants us to take him. Do you want to?” He asked.

 

“Yes.” Jim said immediately. “Whoever this fucking- this monster, whoever he is, he’s fucking over children, and I can’t- I can’t let a kid go through that.” His hands started to tremble, and Freddie squeezed them. “I can’t, Freddie, I can’t, it’s-”

 

“I know, baby.” Freddie helped him sit down and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He hadn’t expected it to trigger him. “We’ll help him, it’s okay, you can help him. You’re so good with all of us.” He whispered and rubbed his back.

 

“I just-” He didn’t even realise he was crying until Freddie wiped his eyes. “It’s so- it’s so hopeless, when you’re so young, s-so fucking scared, it’s awful-”

 

“You’re safe here.” Freddie rested his head on his shoulder and wrapped both arms around him. “And you know the most important thing? You’ve taken two kids that were abandoned and neglected and abused and you’ve cared for them, you’ve fed them and washed them and kissed them goodnight, and you’ve made their childhoods so much better than ours ever were. You’ve used all of that bad experience to make more love in the world, and that’s the most important thing in the world.”

 

He wound his arms around Freddie and held onto him, resting his nose in his hair. “You wouldn’t mind another kid?”

 

“He’s Talulah’s brother. I practically consider him my child already.” Freddie smiled. “Don’t worry about me, precious.”

 

Jim’s eyes fluttered a little at the nickname. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I just- it makes me sad that I can’t save all of them.”

 

“I know, darling.” Freddie traced little patterns on his shoulder. “We don’t know how old this kid is. He could be eight months old or he could be ten, we don’t know. We’ll just take the challenge as it comes.”

 

Jim nodded. “Are you sure you can cope with all of them?” He asked.

 

“Let’s find out.” Freddie shrugged. “We’ll foster for a little while and if that’s disastrous then we’ll know that he needs to find another long term, stable home.”

 

* * *

 

“This is Reuben.” Charlotte held the little boy’s hand gently; he looked a little over two, the spitting image of his sister, all blonde hair and the saddest blue eyes Jim had ever seen. “He’s two and a half, he’s non-verbal, he’s showing signs of physical and sexual abuse, and we’d really appreciate it if you could take him in for a few nights.”

 

“Oh, darling-” Jim’s voice softened automatically. “Hello, sweetheart. I’m Jim, and I’m going to look after you.” He said softly. Freddie knelt beside him and took his hand, squeezing it gently. “And this is Freddie.”

 

“Hello, darling.” He said gently. The little boy toddled forwards, tiny and inquisitive, and Freddie couldn’t help his smile. “Why don’t you come for a cuddle, sweetness?”

 

He took one look at Freddie and went straight for Jim, tottering into his open arms. “He likes you!” Freddie chuckled.

 

“He must recognise your voice. His biological father’s Irish too.” Charlotte rubbed her forehead wearily. “Bane of my fucking life, really.”

 

Freddie frowned and stood up, leaving Jim with Reuben. “Do you know the identity of their father, then?”

 

“Unfortunately.” She leaned against his sideboard. “He’s gone to prison now, so hopefully he’ll stop fathering and abusing children for a while.”

 

Freddie felt like he was about to faint -  _ Irish, in prison, father to two young children.  _ “What’s his name?” He asked quickly.

 

“Paul. Paul Prenter.” She said tiredly. “He’s scum, he’s never to have anything to-”

 

“I need to sit down.” Freddie stumbled into the lounge, the colour draining out of his cheeks.

 

“Freddie?” Jim frowned. “What happened, what-”

 

“I’m going to be sick.” He covered his mouth urgently. “I’m going to- I can’t-”

 

Jim wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him up quickly, holding him tight when he swooned a little. “I’ve got you, darling-” He said gently. “Are you okay?”

 

Freddie stumbled over to the sink and threw up violently, feeling dizzy and sick and frightened. “I didn’t realise-” Charlotte said from behind them, now holding little Reuben in her arms again. “Do you know him?”

 

“Know who?” Jim asked, rubbing Freddie’s back. 

 

“Paul.” She whispered. “Do you-”

 

“Fucking hell.” He murmured.

 

“I’ve been fathering the children of him.” Freddie whispered. “My kids, they’re- they’re his fucking kids, he’s fucking-”

 

Jim poured him a glass of water and helped him sip it. “They’re not his kids, darling, not at all. That’s why Talulah’s ours now.”

 

He sat down heavily and closed his eyes. “She’s mine.” He whispered, over and over again. “She’s mine, she’s mine, that bastard can’t have her, she’s mine.”

 

“He doesn’t want her, darling, he’ll never be able to have her. She’s ours, she’s here to stay.” Jim knelt in front of him. “You’re helping them. You’re saving them from him, you’re doing everything that you deserved, you’re doing so wonderfully.” He kissed his forehead.

 

Freddie started to calm a little, and looked again at the little boy - he was so little, so vulnerable, so helpless. He needed a daddy to look after him.

 

He wiped his eyes and held out his arms. “Can I hold him?” He asked.

 

Charlotte carefully handed the little boy to Freddie, who immediately cradled him close. “I love you.” Freddie told him earnestly, carefully touching his soft hair. The little boy caught his hand, pressing his little fingers to the palm of his hand, and Freddie dropped a little kiss onto his forehead. “I love you, Reuben, and I’ll keep you safe.” He whispered.

 

Talulah stood in the doorway with her teddy bear, frowning at the little boy. “Who’s that?” She asked loudly.

 

Jim picked her up and sat beside Freddie. “This is a little boy who’s coming to stay with us for a while.” He told her. “Just like you did. His name is Reuben.”

 

“Reuben.” Talulah echoed, shuffling closer in his lap to see the little boy. “Hi! I’m Lulah!” She smiled at him.

 

He smiled shyly, but he tucked closer to Freddie’s chest; he liked the way he smelled. “Why doesn’t he talk?” She asked.

 

“Sometimes people don’t like to talk when they’re a little frightened.” He explained soothingly. “Bear didn’t when he first came to live with us.”

 

She rested her head against his shoulder. “I like his hair.” She said earnestly.

 

Oliver ran into the room when he heard all the voices. “What’s going on?” He asked, holding his arms out for Freddie.

 

“I can’t right now, darling, I’ve got Reuben.” He said gently. 

 

Oliver frowned. “Reuben?” He asked.

 

“He’s coming to stay with us for a little while.” Freddie echoed Jim earlier. “We’re all going to look after him.”

 

“He’s little.” Oliver said. “Daddy, I want a cuddle.”

 

“I know, sweetness, we’ll have one in a little while.” Freddie promised.

 

“But-” Oliver protested, but he was interrupted by Talulah standing up. She looked at both of her fathers and both of her brothers, and then smiled.

 

“Reuben cuddles with Pop-” She giggled as Freddie handed him over, following her instructions. “Now Olly can cuddle with Daddy, and I- I can go here!”

 

She dropped down, smushed between both of her fathers, and giggled. “It’s perfect!”

 

Freddie felt his stress levels finally begin to drop: he could do this. He could manage three children, he could have Paul’s little ones, and he could be a better father than Paul ever could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meet Reuben!


	40. Wake Up Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their routines shift again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short but I also think it's kind of sweet! Not much plot here but still!

Freddie gripped Jim’s shoulders as he kissed down his neck, his fingers wandering ever closer to the hem of his boxers - the children were long in bed, and they hadn’t had any time together since they’d first gotten Reuben, and Freddie could tell he was itching for it. “Jim-” Freddie whispered, fingers digging in a little, trying to get his attention from where he was biting a mark on his throat. “Jim, I- I need you to stop.” He murmured.

 

If he was honest, he wasn’t in the mood; he was exhausted from rehearsals all day, he had to be awake at four the following morning, and he couldn’t get Reuben from his mind. Jim frowned and pulled back a little, cupping his cheek, worrying immediately. It had been a long time since he’d misread the signs, having come to know Freddie’s mind and body as though they were his own. “Are you okay?” He asked nervously.

 

Freddie rested his hand atop Jim’s and kissed the pulse point of his wrist lightly. “I’m fine.” He promised. “I’m just- I’m tired and I’m worried about Reuben.”

 

Jim lay beside him and settled for stroking his side instead. “Why are you worried?” He asked softly.

 

“If he hears us.” He rested his head on the pillow beside his lover. “He’s- I know you haven’t bathed him yet, but he’s covered in bruises, and Charlotte said it looked as though he’s been sexually abused. I wouldn’t want to upset him if he could hear us.”

 

Jim considered it for a second, drawing small clouds on his bare skin. “Would it upset him?” He asked.

 

“I just-” He sighed. “When I first went back to the boys after Paul, I remember Roger had some girl over and I could hear them and it sent me into a panic attack. I was crying and crying and all that happened was that two people were having sex within earshot of me, it just brought back so many awful memories at that time.”

 

Jim kissed the top of his head and sighed. “I’m sorry, darling.” He whispered. “Has he been awake in the night a lot?”

 

“You don’t have to be sorry!” Freddie said quickly. “I just want to be careful. He’s been awake a lot, he’s been having a lot of nightmares. He’s wet the bed a couple of times, so I’ve put him back into pull-ups at night because it makes him less upset. He’s less worried that I’ll be angry.”

 

“How much was he awake last night?” He asked.

 

“I think- about five or six times. I lost count when it hit three in the morning.” He chuckled wearily. “And Talulah was awake twice. Bear was the only one that slept through.”

 

“So you were awake what? Eight times?” Jim gently traced the skin under his eyes. “Baby, you must be exhausted. You should tell me if they’re needing a lot of attention so that I can help you.”

 

“You need your sleep.” Freddie insisted. “And it’s my job to make sure everyone is okay, and that includes you.”

 

“How long did you dance for today?” Jim asked.

 

“Five until three, like always.” He whispered. “Breakfast at half four, lunch at eleven, dinner at six. It’s like clockwork.”

 

“And you did it all after waking up eight times in the night. On bad nights, you need to get me involved, darling, you can’t do it all alone. You need to rest if you’re going to work such long hours.” Jim kissed his nose. “I love you. I’m your husband, and it’s as much my job to look after you as it is yours to look after me.”

 

Freddie smiled tiredly. “I’m fine.” He promised.

 

“Hush.” He tilted Freddie’s chin up a little. “We’re not self-sacrificing for the sake of the family with a smile on your face. I don’t just want you to be fine, darling, if you’re going to get sick or exhausted. The last thing we need is another broken bone.” He tapped his hip lightly. “So we’ll share it.”

 

Freddie nodded tiredly, his eyes closing heavily even as he fought to keep them open. “I need to go to bed.”

 

“Rest, darling.” Jim laid his head carefully on the pillow. “I’ll listen out for the kids until one, and you can listen for them after that. We can both have unbroken sleep for a little while.”

 

“Okay.” Freddie agreed, relaxing amongst the silk sheets. “What about when I go to work?”

 

“I’m going to wake up when you do. Don’t you worry.” He promised.

 

Freddie heaved an eye open and looked up at him. “You never wake up at four.”

 

“It’s-” Jim squinted at the clock. “Seven-thirty. I’m going to bed with you, I’ll be awake with you.” He wound an arm around Freddie’s waist and pulled him close. “There’s no point in being awake on my own until midnight when you’re asleep and the kids are asleep. I’d prefer to be awake with you in the morning.”

 

He smiled and snuggled closer to his lover. “I love you.” He whispered.

 

“Love you too, baby doll.” Jim smiled. “Goodnight.”

 

* * *

 

“I bet you’re regretting that four in the morning wake up call now.” Freddie rolled onto his front and pressed kisses to his husband’s jawline as he groaned. “God, don’t make that sound or I’ll jump you.”

 

“I wouldn’t complain.” Jim reached down blindly and squeezed his ass, and Freddie couldn’t help a little shiver at the roughness of his voice.

 

“Ouch, you bastard!” He squeaked, rolling away from him. “I’m still sore.”

 

“Really?” Jim opened his eyes and arched an eyebrow. “Your recovery isn’t what it used to be.”

 

“Thanks!” Freddie laughed and sat up in bed. “Good morning, just a reminder that you’re only getting older every day.”

 

Jim pulled him down and pulled him into a kiss, a luxury that neither of them had taken in the mornings for a long while. Freddie shivered when he kissed his lower lip, deep and passionate, and gripped his shoulder tightly when he pressed another kiss to his jawline. “Put the shower on, darling, I’ll join you in a sec.” He said sleepily. “I’ll make coffee.”

 

“I don’t shower in the morning.” Freddie chuckled. 

 

“You don’t shower in the morning?” Jim echoed. 

 

“What’s the point? I’m going to get sweaty for the next ten hours and then I can have a lovely warm shower at about four when I get home.” Freddie squealed when Jim wound an arm around his waist and pulled him closer, his little spoon. 

 

“But that shower at four o’clock doesn’t have your husband in it.” He spread his fingers to cover as much warm skin as he could, feeling the body of his husband beside him. “Come on, darling, for me.”

 

“You just want a blowjob.” Freddie rolled his eyes playfully.

 

“No sex at home with Reuben, I know the rules.” Jim rested his head on the back of his neck. “No one said about my office, though.”

 

“You horny bitch.” Freddie grinned. 

 

“Come and find me at lunchtime.” He murmured into his hair. “Now go on, or you’ll be late.”

 

Freddie climbed out of bed, looking back at his husband, looking sleepy and entirely debauched. “Good morning, darling!” He winked playfully. “I’ll make the coffee, don’t you worry!”

 

Jim smirked. “That’s good to hear.” He winked.

 

* * *

 

“I’ve got a free hour-” Jim protested as Olga tugged on his arm, forcing him out of his office. “I need to write!”

 

“You need to play for me more!” She insisted. “Listen, we have a showcase in about three days, and Freddie’s just decided that he’s going to choreograph something, and you’re the only bloody musician he doesn’t fight with. He doesn’t even want you to write anything new, he just wants you to play this old Hungarian piece that you’ve probably played before.”

 

“Of course he does.” Jim rolled his eyes, but his smile was fond. “What’s the showcase?”

 

“You really should know, darling, you’re scheduled to be the pianist for it.” She held the door open. “Freddie, I found him!”

 

“You’re a star!” He replied, halfway through lacing his tap shoes. 

 

“Do you need me around, or do you just want to show me when it’s done?” She asked. “Because I’m technically supposed to be in a meeting.”

 

“Oh, darling, go!” He insisted. “We’ll be quite alright!”

 

Jim wound an arm around him from behind when they were alone. “How much of this is a guise to get my attention?” He asked, pressing kisses to the back of his neck.

 

“Only about fifteen percent.” Freddie chuckled. “I just need to practice. I could have any violinist, but why would I have anybody when I could have you?”

 

“I feel honoured.” He grinned, sitting down in the chair beside him and looking a little surprised when he was gifted with a lap full of Freddie Hutton. “Oh, hello, darling.”

 

“Maybe I lied.” Freddie giggled and cupped his cheek, sitting demurely on one of his knees and kissing him sweetly, smiling when two hands cupped his waist. “I love the way you hold me.” He murmured.

 

“I love you.” Jim smiled.

 

“I love you too.” Freddie whispered, going to kiss him again when the door burst open.

 

“Boys, this definitely isn’t the task I left you with.” Olga picked her papers off the top of the piano and smirked. “How’s the choreography going, Freddie?”

 

“I’ve finished it.” He replied smoothly.

 

“I’ve been gone a minute, darling, I don’t believe you in the slightest.” She crossed her arms and grinned.

 

“I can show you.” He stood up and brushed off his tights. “It’s all sorted. I just need to practice with the music.”

 

She whistled. “Show me.” She challenged him. “Show me a little sample.”

 

Freddie knew he could use the opportunity to show off; it was too irresistible. He showed her the tiniest little snippet, a pirouette, high leg to low leg, foot brushing his planted foot, and then went into tapping as he continued to spin-

 

Olga whistled and then broke into laughter. “Alright, then, show off.”


	41. Bloch

Jim couldn’t help his laugh when he came into the lounge to see his husband bundled in blankets, fast asleep on the sofa, curled up in the tiniest ball; they’d put the children to bed a mere half-hour ago, and Freddie had been awfully tired ever since. He sat on the sofa next to him and pulled Freddie close, pressing kisses to the top of his head as he yawned and stretched, settling down against his chest. “You’re so cute.” He chuckled and squeezed him a little, his heart warming when he saw the tell-tale dimple of Freddie’s smile.

 

That little dimple was Jim’s favourite part of his husband, he’d decided; even when he couldn’t see his smile, he could see that little dimple that told him he was happy. He sometimes still couldn’t believe he’d earned that smile - it had taken years for him to relax enough to smile fully, to smile with his teeth on show, to let go of all the horrible words that had been knocked into his skull through his childhood. He’d managed to ease every word from his mind, every insult - now, when Freddie smiled, he smiled in his direction, wide and loving and unashamed. Jim only ever reminded him he was beautiful.

 

“I’ve got some good news.” Jim lay back against the arm of the sofa, tugging a blanket over the both of them. “I think it’ll make you happy.”

 

“Can you make me any happier?” Freddie asked sweetly, rubbing his eyes and looking up at his husband. 

 

“I love you so much.” Jim chuckled. “I know you’ve been run off your feet with the little ones in the afternoons, so I had a little chat with Jonathan, and I’m going to be finishing work at the same time as you for the next few months.”

 

Freddie’s eyes widened with excitement. He hadn’t had much trouble with the jump from one to two children, especially when the second child was as independent as Talulah had been, but the jump from two to three had been difficult: Reuben was very dependent, very clingy, and being non-verbal meant that Freddie had to work much harder to understand what he needed when he got upset. He’d neglected this time with Jim a little, once the children had gone to bed, but he was thankful to have a husband that refused to be neglected. “You are?” He whispered after a pause.

 

“Three kids is a lot. It’s not fair to leave you with all that work.” He kissed his temple and closed his eyes contentedly. “So I’m finishing at three, and starting at nine instead of ten.”

 

“I love you.” Freddie whispered. “I love you so much, thank you.”

 

“We’re in this together, aren’t we?” Jim rubbed his waist. “I didn’t marry you to make you do all the work.”

 

Freddie closed his eyes and smiled even wider. “God, what did I do to deserve you?” He whispered.

 

“Everything.” Jim said, voice a little firmer. “I couldn’t ask for a better husband. You’re so loving, so caring, you work so hard, you’re fucking gorgeous, you’re the most wonderful man in the world.”

 

“You flatter me.” Freddie murmured sleepily. 

 

“It’s true.” Jim insisted. “If you think I’m so wonderful, why would I settle for anything less than somebody equally wonderful?”

 

“You’ve always been good with logic. And me, in general.” Freddie let out a little content breath and snuggled into his husband’s chest, forever trusting him to look after him, after all of them.

 

* * *

 

“Hello, sweetheart.” Jim whispered, picking up Reuben when his little hands grabbed for him. It was ten o’clock, later that evening, and Freddie had been asleep for around an hour, but Jim had decided to clean up a little bit before he went to bed himself. “How’s my little man?”

 

He smiled and settled down against Jim’s chest, little fists twining in the fabric of his father’s shirt; he was so warm, and he liked the sound of his heartbeat against his cheek. He’d never been held like this before. “Pa.” He murmured, putting his thumb in his mouth.

 

Jim’s eyes widened and he smiled widely, rocking him. “What did you say, sweetheart?” He asked.

 

Reuben’s bright eyes met his and he smiled when he saw Jim’s grin, leaning up to touch the apple of Jim’s cheek. “Pa.” He said again, giggling when Jim kissed his forehead. 

 

He squealed when Jim rushed upstairs to their bedroom, giggling as he clung onto his Pop. “Freddie!” Jim said excitedly, sitting on their bed with Reuben on his lap. “Freddie, baby, wake up.”

 

“Da!” Reuben said excitedly, seeing how happy they were to hear him speak. “Pa!”

 

“What?” Freddie asked sleepily, rolling over towards his husband. “What’s going on?” He asked, cracking an eye open. 

 

“Da!” Reuben said again, giggling when Freddie’s eyes went wide - he just looked so silly. “Da!”

 

“Oh, baby!” He sat up and reached for the little boy, taking him from Jim and cuddling him tight. “That’s amazing!”

 

“Da.” Reuben repeated, poking Freddie’s cheek, and then he looked at Jim. “Pa.”

 

“That’s right, darling.” Freddie kissed the top of his head and then rested his cheek on Jim’s shoulder. “I’m your Daddy, and this is your Pop.”

 

Reuben sat in his lap, facing both of them, and then rested his little fingers on their joined hands; they laced their fingers together whenever they sat together, a force of habit from Freddie’s days of being so frightened both in public and in private, and they could always be found playing with each other’s fingers, stroking over knuckles and agile bones, made lithe by years of piano playing. “Pop.” He smiled when he got the sound right, the way that Freddie kissed his forehead again. His Daddy had never kissed and smiled at him like this before. 

 

“You’re such a clever little boy.” Jim chuckled. “You just didn’t want to talk to the wrong people, did you?”

 

He crawled over the silken sheets and landed himself in Jim’s lap, cuddling back up against his chest. “Pop.” He said again, reaching for Freddie’s spare hand. “Da.”

 

Freddie stroked his hair gently, smiling to himself. “Daddy?” Oliver asked from the doorway, thumb in his mouth.

 

Freddie leaned over the side of the bed and smiled at his little boy. “Are you okay, malus?” He asked softly.

 

Oliver nodded and toddled over to the bed, pulling himself up and into Freddie’s lap. “Can’t sleep.” He mumbled tiredly, though his little eyes closed heavily.

 

“Me neither, baby.” Freddie lied smoothly; his little boy liked to know he wasn’t alone, and sometimes that meant lying in order to make him feel better. “How about some milk?”

 

He nodded excitedly, resting his head against Freddie’s collarbone, preparing himself to be picked up from force of habit. “For Ru too.”

 

“I think that’s a good idea. Pop and I need to sleep, too, shall we make some for all of us?” Freddie asked kindly, kissing both of his cheeks.

 

The little boy giggled and looked over at Reuben, blowing him a kiss; the toddler squealed with delight as he caught it in a tiny fist. “All of us.” He agreed. “Ru is very little, Daddy.”

 

“He is.” Freddie agreed. “Do you know how little he is?”

 

Oliver shook his head. “Three?” He guessed. “Because I’m five, and Lulah’s four, and he’s more little than us.”

 

“Even more little. He’s two. He’s just a little bit bigger than a baby.” Freddie stood up, grabbing his dressing gown and draping it over his shoulders to protect him from the night chill. “Let’s go and make some milk, sweetheart.”

 

* * *

 

Olga’s scream reverberated throughout the building, bouncing off high ceilings and smacking against glass panels. She stood in the door of Freddie’s dressing room, looking him over, and she couldn’t help the horrified look on her face. “What the fuck have you done to yourself?” She asked. 

 

Freddie looked himself over and frowned. “What do you mean?” He asked defensively.

 

“This!” She gestured at the tattoo across his hip, healed enough now to wear his clothes normally, with only a little chafing and discomfort. “I’ll never be able to put you in white ever again!”

 

“I think you’re being a little dramatic, darling.” He chastised, pulling on a white shirt, but it only seemed to further her point when she could still see his ink through it.

 

“Me? Dramatic?” She turned on her heel and went out into the hallway. “Jim!” She shouted. “Jim!”

 

“Why do we need to involve my husband?” Freddie followed her, rubbing a towel through his hair and walking barefoot. “He’s not my keeper.”

 

Jim came out of his office, looking over the both of them with an arched eyebrow. “Is everything okay?”

 

“Did you know he’d done this?” She asked, gesturing at his hip.

 

“His tattoo?” He asked, unable to hide his grin as he leaned one shoulder against the wall. “Yes, I was there when he got it. We both got tattoos on our honeymoon.”

 

“And you didn’t think to talk him out of doing something that could ruin his career?” She spluttered.

 

“He designed what he wanted on his body, and he can have whatever he wants. It’s his body.” He shrugged. “I think we both came to the conclusion that it wouldn’t ruin his career.”

 

“Those lights will make it show up in every single costume he wears!” She insisted.

 

“Darling.” Freddie squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll just wear a leotard under my costumes, it’ll be fine. We can just cover it with makeup.”

 

She seemed to consider it for a moment. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She admitted.

 

“You do fucking hate leotards.” Jim pointed out.

 

“I hate full-back leotards.” Freddie corrected him. “But Bloch sent me this package, and it’s fucking incredible, they’re doing thong-back ones, I’ll wear those.”

 

“They sent you a package?” Olga questioned.

 

“They want me to wear it when we’re doing that evening showcase. Tap shoes, split-soles, short and long tights, warm up boots, leotard, shirts, everything. Didn’t have to pay a penny for it.” He shrugged proudly. 

 

“That’s impressive.” She admitted, entirely distracted from her original horror at his tattoo. 

 

“It’s not a problem, darling, I won’t let me home life infringe on my performances.” He kissed her cheek with a chuckle.

 

* * *

 

Jim was at home when the post came that morning, Oliver and Talulah eating breakfast whilst he was in the midst of helping Reuben with his cereal. He shuffled through the letters quickly, through bills and their mortgage payments and another letter from his mother, before he came across one of them, written in an unfamiliar hand.

 

He opened it with a kitchen knife and glanced over it as Talulah and Oliver fought over the last strawberry on the breakfast table; he leaned over and cut it in half as he turned the paper over, seemingly blank. His gaze looked over his little ones, his little ones happily eating their fruit and Reuben watching them with a giggle, and then he glanced once more at the blank paper in his hand, eyeing a single sentence written at the bottom of the fourth page.

 

_ I know you’ve got them. _


	42. Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They both come clean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are many discussions around mental health, some mentions of suicidal thoughts etc. in this chapter so please be careful!

“No, just- play it properly!” Freddie laughed, hands on his hips; he was stood in the studio, split-soles on, sweaty and, by all accounts, a little bit disgusting. Jim wasn’t quite sure why it made it so tempting to get and keep his attention, those playful looks in his direction, knowing exactly what he’d taste of if he went over and kissed him as he wanted so desperately to do. He would have that sweet-salt-musk taste, sweat and adrenaline, coffee and raspberry: the same taste he had late at night, dark eyelashes fluttering against cheeks in the light of the fire, hushed whines and the creak of the springs of the sofa, blanket over them in case of little prying eyes long after bedtime-

 

“You’re so distracted today, petal.” Freddie came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, standing on his toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. Jim looked down at his hands, his fingers hovering above keys as he’d been caught in his thoughts. “Why are you so stuck in your head?”

 

Jim looked up at him, unable to stop himself from kissing him firmly for a few moments. “You’re fucking distracting.” He murmured.

 

“Aw, baby!” Freddie teased. “I forgot you have a thing for me when I’m all hot and sweaty. Too much?” He smirked, touching a finger to his husband’s lips.

 

“Don’t you dare get me hard.” Jim muttered.

 

“You’re already halfway there.” Freddie winked and kissed him playfully again. “Now, stop trying to get my attention and play it properly.”

 

Jim’s cheeks flushed and he looked away, thumbing the pages of his sheet music. “From the top?”

 

“From the top.” Freddie agreed and walked back out into the studio. “Should I add a brisé at the glissando?”

 

“Are you allowed to change the choreography?” Jim chuckled.

 

“I can do what I like, darling.” Freddie winked, trying a little  pas de bourrée i nto a brisé. “I think it’s fun. It’s very- it’s like, I’m fourteen and this is my Saturday and I’m really excited to be here, you know?”

 

“That’s a complex emotion for a move.” He laughed. “I like it, darling. Keep it.”

 

Freddie beamed at him and started to dance again when he started to play; he’d been in such a good mood these past few days, ever since Jim had started to come home with him in the afternoons. He had a little time to rest now, so he wasn’t feeling so exhausted, and Reuben settled more easily when he wasn’t trying to divert his attention between all three children. Jim felt that he was discovering a new side to his husband, the same as he did when Freddie made gains with his mental health; it had been almost two weeks since he’d had a panic attack, a week since he’d had any nightmares, a week and a half since he’d gotten upset by any intrusive thoughts, any flashbacks or memories. He was so thankful that Freddie seemed to have levelled out, calmed down a little, and that he was looking after himself much better.

 

“Jim?” Freddie asked, coming and sitting beside him on the piano bench. “Can I talk to you?”

 

“Of course.” Jim pecked his temple. “What’s up?”

 

“I went back to the mental health clinic.” He clasped his hands together tightly; he couldn’t help the way that his heart started to beat faster, remembering their argument last time he’d gone back. He’d never quite managed to lose that statement in his mind -  _ if you were normal. _

 

“Did you?” Jim asked, keeping his voice soft to prove that he wasn’t feeling angry. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. “When, sweetheart?”

 

“About two weeks ago.” He said shyly, avoiding his eyes. “I- I changed my mind about taking medication.”

 

Jim’s eyes widened; it had been a long, hard battle, something he’d been mentioning occasionally for years, every time Freddie’s mental health had gone crashing down again, relapsing into anxiety and sleeplessness or waking up screaming, demons caught in his eyes or his throat. He’d been put off by the anti-depressants he’d taken when he was with Paul, the ones that helped paralyse him when he’d taken too much codeine; he’d tried to take tablets many times, but he’d ended up just crying, shaking, holding them too tightly in his palm and then dropping them as though they could infuse through his skin. 

 

But now, he felt as though it was time to try, to live less in the ups and downs and more in the feeling of regularity, predictability. 

 

“You did?” Jim whispered.

 

“I still can’t take iproniazid.” He said quickly. “I can’t- I can’t put that in my body. I don’t know if I can ever do that again. But they’ve just found this new one, it’s not really been generally introduced yet but they thought it might help me. They were telling me about the different things it can help, and it can help with panic and problems with eating as well as just with feeling low, and I thought- I thought it was worth a shot.” He bit his lip, and then quickly went on to try and justify himself. “I just didn’t want to tell you straight away in case I had to come off it for whatever reason, but I feel, I feel so much better-”

 

“Darling-” Jim chuckled and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’m so proud of you.”

 

Freddie’s cheeks flushed. “I scared myself. I woke up a few weeks ago, and I- I had a dream about hurting myself. Ending it.” He murmured shyly, looking down. “And I felt like I was in a daze, and my head was telling me that things would be so much easier if I just did it, it would be like turning my brain off. But the other part of me was horrified because we- we have children, I couldn’t do that to them, I couldn’t do that to you, and I- I don’t really want to do that.” He rubbed a hand through his hair. “Does that make sense? I came here and I was doing the morning class and I just started crying because I didn’t want to stop doing it, but my head was telling me I was going to die, and I was so fucking confused and so I made myself a crisis appointment because I can’t live the rest of my life like this.”

 

“I didn’t know you were feeling like that.” Jim rubbed his back lightly. “How long for?”

 

“Since we found out the little ones were Paul’s. I started feeling as though every time I looked at them, they were reminding me of something he’d done to me, and I didn’t want to make you choose between me and them, so I thought I’d make the decision for you.” He sighed. “That’s why I was feeling so down. I was thinking about how guilty I felt all the time.”

 

“And you feel better on the medication?” Jim asked. “I know it’s early days, but..?”

 

“The first few days I was really miserable, it was when I told you I had a migraine. But now, I- I haven’t really thought about hurting myself at all. I’ve felt more calm around the children, I haven’t been feeling so awful and guilty, I’ve been able to sleep, I’ve had more energy, I’ve been eating more, and the doctor said that they’re all signs that they’re working.” Freddie glanced up at him. “So I think I’m going to keep taking them.”

 

“I can’t believe I haven’t noticed.” Jim wrapped his arms around Freddie’s waist and hugged him close; he’d never known he’d been so close to losing his husband. “I knew you were happier, but I didn’t know why.”

 

“I love you.” Freddie whispered. “And I love our little ones, and I love my job, and I don’t want to lose anything. I feel as though I can manage now.”

 

Jim rested his nose in Freddie’s hair, never wanting to let go. “I’m sorry.” He murmured after a while. “I should’ve noticed, I-”

 

“Hey.” Freddie leaned up, sitting in his lap to get closer. “My mental health isn’t your job, remember. I just took it as such a knock when we first found out about Ru.”

 

“Do you love him?” Jim asked seriously. “Because we don’t have to keep him if it’s too difficult for you.”

 

Freddie looked away from him quickly. “I love Oliver the most.” He whispered. “It’s awful, I feel so terrible but he’s the only one that doesn’t- doesn’t remind me of everything that happened.” Freddie rested the palm of his hand against his forehead. “I thought I had closure on all of this, I thought I wouldn’t feel bad ever again, I thought I’d let it all go.”

 

“You don’t have to keep him.” Jim repeated.

 

“No, I want to.” He promised, squeezing Jim’s hand. “I do love him, I just need to get through it. I think- I think that in some ways, it’ll help me. Because I’m helping them, and loving them, and it’s giving them what I- what I-” He stammered, his eyes suddenly welling, and he stood up quickly. “God, I promised myself I wouldn’t get upset.”

 

“No, it’s okay.” Jim followed him and pulled him back into the hug. 

 

“It’s what I deserved.” He whispered, stolen words. “I deserved to have a good childhood, a good first love, I’m- I’m a good person.”

 

“You’re right.” Jim promised. “You’re such a good person, and I hope the meds are going to help with you believing that.”

 

* * *

 

Oliver lay over Freddie’s shoulder, fast asleep and curled up as Freddie’s fingers ran back up and down his back. He watched his hands, how aggressively they were shaking though he wasn’t feeling too anxious, no more than usual; he felt a little as though he’d lost control of his own hands. 

 

“This is ridiculous.” Freddie glanced at Jim. “Look at this.” He held out his hands so that Jim could see. 

 

Jim frowned and took his hand, squeezing it lightly. “You’re freezing.” He murmured.

 

“That’s just because I’m cold and hungry.” He smiled. “But I’m not shaking for any particular reason. The doctor said it might happen when I got a lot of the medication in my system.”

 

Jim sat beside him and wrapped an arm around him, rubbing his shoulder to warm him a little. “I love you.” He murmured, interlacing their fingers and resting them again on Oliver’s back. 

 

“I love you too.” Freddie closed his eyes and rested his head on Jim’s shoulder. “Thank you for not being cross with me.”

 

“I learned my lesson on that one. I need to control my temper.” Jim kissed his temple. “You did what was best for all of us.”

 

“Daddy.” Oliver murmured sleepily, looking up at his father and smiling widely when he saw both. “Both daddies!”

 

Jim chuckled and stroked Oliver’s cheek. “Did you have a nice nap, sweetheart?”

 

“I like sleeping on Daddy.” He stretched out and then curled back up again. “He’s warm.”

 

“Maybe that’s why I’m cold. He’s been stealing all my body heat.” Freddie chuckled and squeezed him close. “I love you, bear.”

 

“Love you, Daddy.” He echoed sweetly, little finger poking the apple of Freddie’s cheek when he smiled. “It’s like the old days.”

 

“The old days?” Jim asked, tucking his legs up and snuggling into Freddie’s side; Freddie melted like butter, arm automatically winding around his husband’s shoulders. “What do you mean, baby?”

 

“When it was you and me and Daddy and Peaches.” He stretched out, enjoying being the centre of attention. “Before Lulah and Ru.”

 

“It hasn’t been just us for a while.” Freddie nodded. “I miss it sometimes. I miss having my little boy all to myself.”

 

Oliver giggled and sat up on Freddie’s knee. “But then- then I couldn’t play with Lulah!” He shook his head. “I miss her. And I like playing baby with Ru. We cuddle and be tiny again.”

 

Freddie’s heart almost burst at the idea of his little boy reclaiming his own early childhood, his babyhood, in the way that Freddie sometimes did when he disappeared in his own mind for a while; Jim had never minded putting him to bed, creating an environment that was stable and kind in a way he’d never had before. “I like playing that game.” Freddie nodded.

 

“I like looking after Ru. I help him with his cup and I give him my blanket.” He smiled proudly. “Like Pop.”

 

“Like when I give Daddy the cat and a cup of tea.” Jim agreed. “And that always makes him happy, doesn’t it?”

 

Oliver nodded proudly. “We look after Daddy.”

 

Freddie smiled and squeezed his son so tightly. “I love you, baby.” He murmured. “You’re wonderful.”

 

“Don’t I get a squeeze?” Jim teased, grinning when Freddie leaned up to kiss his cheek.

 

“Both of you. I love both of you.” Freddie smiled up at him. “You’re just wonderful.”

 

* * *

 

“Mum.” Jim wound his arms around her waist and rested his forehead on her shoulder, almost trembling. “Oh, Ma, I’m so glad you’re here-”

 

“Sweetheart-” Charlotte wrapped her arms around him and kissed his temple, immediately feeling protective of her boy. “Darling, what’s the matter?”

 

“I-” Jim didn’t know why he wanted to cry; he supposed it was the stress that bottling up all his worries brought him. “I’m scared.”

 

“What’s happened?” She asked, stepping into their home and shutting the door behind her. “You go and sit down, I’ll make us some tea, and then we’ll have a nice chat, okay?”

 

“Okay.” Jim agreed, slumping on the sofa with his head in his hands. The letters were piling up now, threats against his family, and he was so confused and so upset, but he didn’t want to risk triggering Freddie when he’d already been feeling low. Charlotte brought in a pot of tea and two mugs, a decanter of milk and sugar, and rested them all on the coffee table. 

 

“So, sweetheart, what’s happening?” She asked, tucking her knees up as she sat down. 

 

“It’s a really long story.” Jim bit one of his thumbnails nervously. “You remember when Freddie and I told you about his past? About his ex-boyfriend, the one that assaulted him?”

 

“Of course, sweetheart. You told me all about the court case, too, and he’s in prison now. Is that right?” She questioned.

 

“Yeah.” He poured himself a mug of tea and cradled it close. “But Charlotte - the other Charlotte, the one in adoption - she told us that Talulah and Reuben, they’re both fathered by him. It sent Freddie into a bit of a spiral.”

 

“Oh, darling.” She sighed. “And so now you’re having to look after four?”

 

“No, no, it’s not that. He’s gone onto medication, he’s doing much better.” Jim said quickly.

 

“That’s such a big step!” She said excitedly. “That should help him so much!”

 

“I know.” Jim bit his lip. “But I’ve been having these letters through the door, and they’re threatening, saying that he knows we’ve got the children and that- that he’s going to have me stabbed, or he’s going to throw me off the roof of the Opera House, or that he’s going to push me in front of a bus while the children watch. He says that he’s going to assault Freddie again, like- like he did before. And he says he wants to hurt the children.” His hands shook so badly he had to put the mug down. “And I don’t want to tell Freddie because he’s doing so well at the moment, but he’d been struggling with all these thoughts that he should end it all, and I don’t want to push him to that point by telling him.”

 

“That’s awful.” Charlotte murmured, going silent for a few minutes. “You have to tell the police.”

 

“I don’t know if he’s got accomplices. If I tell the police, they could slip up the radar and attack us ten times worse.” Tears welled in his eyes then. “I don’t want it to be like it used to- I don’t want him to be hollow like he used to be, he was so numb and so frightened, I want to keep him as he is.”

 

“Darling-” Charlotte wrapped her arms around him and let him cry; she knew that bottling it all up wouldn’t be good for his mental health. “It’s alright, I’ve got you, let it all out.”

 

His shoulders shook with sobs and he only cried more when she played with his hair, as she’d done when he was little; it had been a long time since he’d allowed himself to cry, since he’d been so vulnerable, especially not when he knew Freddie had been low-

 

The front door opened and he sat up quickly, trying to rub his eyes dry though he knew Freddie would be able to tell immediately that he’d been crying. “Darling?” Freddie called out, glancing into the kitchen and then the lounge. He took one look at his husband, sat with his mother, looking crippled and heartbroken; he immediately ran over. “Jim, darling, what’s wrong?”

 

“It’s nothing.” He said quickly, wiping his eyes, though the sight of his lover, so concerned, made tears well in his eyes again. “Don’t worry about me, darling-” His voice wavered dangerously as he started to cry again.

 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Freddie knelt beside him on the sofa and hugged him closely. “I didn’t know you were feeling bad, I’m sorry.”

 

“You need to tell him, darling.” Charlotte rested a hand on his shoulder. “This involves all of you.”

 

“Tell me what?” Freddie asked, rubbing Jim’s back lightly. “What is it, love?”

 

Jim swallowed the lump in his throat, looking up at the man he loved so dearly, and he sighed shakily. “Paul knows about the children.”


	43. Crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's always known it was coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are having some real and genuine discussions around mental health crises in this chapter so TW for suicidal thoughts, dissociation, survivor's guilt, panic attacks, and also for rape threats. 
> 
> I have tried my best to accurately portray dissociative amnesia here (a temporary condition where the mind dissociates in order to protect the person from a complete breakdown) - this is not a hugely well-known condition, there are no clear reasons why it happens and why someone recovers, and it can last between hours to months. This is very real, and is a staple of many hospitalisations, and comes after a period of intense trauma or trauma without entirely effective treatment. It also has nothing to do with dissociative identity disorder (which Freddie does not have) - it is an entirely different condition.
> 
> This is not a made up condition - I have tried my best to give it justice, though verbalising it is largely impossible. Let's be gentle, reader to author, and recognise that I cannot necessarily get everything 100% all the time.

Jim had never felt so alone before.

 

He’d lost Freddie in that moment; he almost felt as though he’d watched the life drain from behind his eyes. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move, he could barely breathe, so overwhelmed by the strength of his own mind, flashbacks and fears he’d hoped he’d never relive; he was suffocated by the image of his husband dead, his children abused, that all-encompassing fear of those hands on his belt again-

 

Jim wasn’t stupid enough to try and treat him at home; he knew that he couldn’t deal with fears of Freddie doing something, anything, alongside his fears for the safety of the children, and he knew Freddie couldn’t deal with being at home for a moment longer.

 

He’d been put to sleep when they realised how bad the crisis was, how desperately he couldn’t cope with his own mind, what a danger he was to himself. Jim sat beside him, hands clasped tightly in his own, trembling; he’d spoken to the nurses, and the nurses had spoken to the police, and everything had come out in a tumble of fear, words that barely made sense.  

 

“Come back.” Jim whispered, resting his forehead against their hands. “Please, please, I need you.”

 

* * *

 

“Freddie?” Jim looked up quickly when he heard the bedsheets rustle beside him. He’d been dozing himself, finally relaxing after he’d had a call from Charlotte to say she had all the children well and safe at home, but he was still worried by how Freddie might be when he awoke. He hadn’t even been able to say his own name before he’d been sedated, and Jim was worried by the quality of his mind.

 

Freddie raised a hand to his eyes, rubbing them wearily, and then he looked at the cannula in his hand with a frown. “Did I have a fall?” He asked, glancing up at Jim and smiling.

 

“Not quite, sweetheart.” He whispered, leaning over to kiss his forehead; he was relieved that he was at least talking, saying something, that he wasn’t too disassociated from his own mind. “Can I ask you a few questions?”

 

Freddie sat up and crossed his legs, his body hunched in as though he was trying to protect himself. “Go ahead.” He whispered.

 

“What’s your name?” He asked simply, the question he hadn’t been able to answer before.

 

“Farrokh Bulsara.” He replied easily.

 

Jim was surprised that he went immediately to his birth name. “What do I call you?”

 

Freddie’s expression brightened and Jim immediately felt relieved. “You call me a lot of names. You call me darling a lot.” Freddie giggled. “Baby, sweetheart, love, honey.”

 

Jim chuckled, listening to him recount all of his nicknames for him. “What name do I call you?” He clarified.

 

“Oh! You call me Freddie.” He leaned on his palm, watching his lover.

 

“I do.” He agreed. “Where do we live?”

 

“Floral Street, Covent Garden.” He replied quickly, as though the answer was obvious. Jim’s heart sped up a little; they’d been living in Kensington for two years now.

 

“What do you do for a living?” He asked.

 

“I’m a soloist for the Royal Ballet.” He shrugged. “You’re a pianist.”

 

Jim bit his lip. “How many people live in our house?”

 

“Two. You and me.” He squeezed his hand and smiled. “And Peaches.”

 

“What are we to each other?” He asked nervously.

 

“You’re my boyfriend. Fiancé.” Freddie corrected himself quickly. “You proposed to me a few weeks ago, when we got the house.”

 

“What year is it? How old are you? How old am I?” He asked quickly.

 

“It’s nineteen-seventy. I’m nineteen, you’re twenty-three.” He replied.

 

“Fuck.” Jim ducked his head down, feeling so frightened that Freddie had lost so much of their time together in his mind. “You’re twenty-six, Freddie.” He whispered.

 

“What?” He asked quickly.

 

“You’re twenty-six, I’m thirty. It’s nineteen-seventy-six, we’re married.” He said quietly. “Do you not remember?”

 

“We’re married?” He echoed. 

 

“We’re married and we have three children together.” Jim fumbled in his pocket for his wallet, the new photo he’d taken three days ago: Freddie and the children all tucked up in bed with the blanket pulled up to their necks, laughing together. He handed the photo to Freddie, who looked so confused, and yet delighted. 

 

“We have children.” He thumbed the photo, seeing if anything came to mind. “Bear.” He whispered. 

 

“That’s it!” He said quickly, looking over Freddie’s shoulder, though he looked a little dismayed when Freddie pointed to Reuben. “Not quite. That’s your nickname for Oliver.” He pointed to the little boy in the picture.

 

“Where do we live?” Freddie asked. “Our flat is tiny.”

 

“We don’t live there anymore. We moved two years ago.” Jim squeezed his hand gently. “We live in Kensington now.”

 

“We lived in Kensington before. Holland Road.” Freddie glanced up at him.

 

“We live in Earl’s Court, now. Logan Place. Our house is called Garden Lodge.” He closed his eyes momentarily. “You’re a principal at the Royal. You’ve been a principal for nearly seven years, and they made you the assoluta recently. I’m lead conductor.”

 

“Why can’t I remember?” He asked, resting his palm on his forehead.

 

“We got some bad news. You- you disappeared into yourself for a while. You wouldn’t speak to anyone.” Jim worried his lip between his teeth. “It might be something to do with the tablets.”

 

“What’s my name?” He asked shyly.

 

“You changed it legally. You’re Freddie Hutton.” He told him. 

 

“Hutton.” Freddie looked down at his fingers and was delighted to see a wedding ring. “I took your name?”

 

“You did.” Jim kissed his forehead. “I can’t believe you can’t remember.”

 

Freddie wasn’t that worried about his memory; he shrugged simply. “Maybe I’ll remember.”

 

* * *

 

“He thinks he’s nineteen.” Jim explained, twiddling a pen around his fingers agitatedly. “What’s the matter with him?”

 

The doctor tapped his pen against his cheek a few times. “It could be the benzodiazepines we used to sedate him. In that case, when they wear off, he should feel better. But they usually stop the formation of new memories, rather than making you forget old memories, and he’s remembered everything you told him. So I think it could be dissociative amnesia.”

 

“What does that mean?” He asked, leaning his hip against the desk. 

 

“His mind doesn’t want to think about two things that hurt, so he regresses to a point where he felt safe. Did anything especially good happen when he was nineteen?” He questioned.

 

“He got away from the man that was abusing him, we got our first house together, and we got engaged. He used to say it was the first time he’d felt really safe.” It all seemed to click in Jim’s mind; he wanted to go back to those days when he’d felt looked after. “Will he ever remember?”

 

“Most people regain all their memories.” He nodded. “It’s strange and unpredictable. Some people need months of talking therapy and reintroduction to their old lives, a little bit at a time so that things don’t spiral again. Some people, they hear or smell or see something that triggers everything to come back again suddenly. Everybody’s trigger is different, and there’s no promise that a trigger will work for him. You might just have to wait.”

 

“But he will remember?” He asked.

 

“You’re lucky he’s remembered as much as he has. Some people completely forget who they are, their names, they don’t remember any family members.” He rested a hand on his back. “Yes, he should remember everything.”

 

“I want him to remember the children.” He took a sip of the coffee in his hand. “I don’t want him to look at them blankly.”

 

“You can try some triggers with him. Maybe a blanket, a toy, something he associates with them. See if it makes a connection in his mind.” He suggested. “We’ll start some therapy with him, too, and see if that helps.”

 

* * *

 

“What’s that?” Freddie asked curiously, glancing up at the bag in Jim’s hand. “What have you brought me?”

 

“A couple of things. I was wondering if anything might help your memories.” He sat up beside Freddie and kissed his cheek, smiling when Freddie rested his head against his shoulder. “The doctor suggested a couple of things.”

 

“Anything to get me out of here.” He muttered, reaching for the bag and taking out the first thing his fingers touched; softness, patchwork, blue and white-

 

_ “What about this?” Freddie held it up and showed Jim. “Do you think he’ll like it? Or is it too- too boy?” He chuckled. “What the hell am I talking about?” _

 

_ “I have no idea, sweetheart. You worry too much.” Jim wound his arms around Freddie’s waist from behind and kissed his cheek. “I think he’ll love whatever present his daddy buys him. He’s barely taken that sweater off since you gave it to him-” _

 

Freddie looked up at Jim, something coming alive in his brain.

 

_ “Freddie!” A little voice gasped as he took the pretty sweater, hugging it tight to his chest. “I love it!” _

 

“I remember-” He whispered.

 

_ “My Daddy bought this for me.” Oliver said proudly, twisting and turning in the beautiful, warm sweater, the one that fit him perfectly. “And I’m going to live with him forever and ever and ever!” _

 

“He- he-” He stammered.

 

_ “Try this, sweetheart.” Freddie knelt by the side of the bed, producing the blanket and tucking it up beside his little boy. Oliver’s tear-stained cheeks tucked up in the soft fabric, nuzzling his nose in it, enthralled by the smell of his daddy that he got to keep close by him forever; Freddie watched as his tired eyes drooped closed, his breathing slowing down, soft, heavy, gentle- _

 

“This is Oliver’s.” Freddie bit his lip. “I- I bought it for him, two weeks after he came home to us. I slept with it so it smelled of me. We were in the baby section of Harrod’s-” His features softened. “We were going to have a baby.”

 

“And how old is Oliver?” Jim asked, delighted that it had triggered so many memories, one feeding off of another.

 

“He’s five. He just started school. We had a parent’s evening.” He suddenly looked so excited. “He wants to be a dancer like me. You’re teaching him piano.”

 

Jim grinned and kissed his cheek. “That’s it!” He said excitedly. “What about this?” He asked, handing Freddie Snowball.

 

He thumbed the soft ears contemplatively, and he found himself hugging it instinctively. “This was mine when I was in hospital. When I was assaulted.” His breath hitched in his throat, and Jim saw a look of horror come across his face. “No- no- this is Talulah’s.” He dropped it as though he’d been burned. “She’s his, he knows, he- he-” He covered his mouth as his eyes welled with tears; he couldn’t breathe, the fear hit him again, he was going to be raped, he wasn’t safe, nothing could stop it-

 

“Shit.” Jim whispered, pulling him in close. “Okay, Freddie, darling, breathe, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He whispered guiltily. 

 

Freddie whimpered and tucked himself against Jim’s chest, squeezing his eyes shut tightly and cramming his hands over his ears. He tucked his knees up to his chest and dug his nails into his palms, his head overwhelmed by all the bad things - day to day, he managed to stay so positive, to look at all the amazing things around his life, his job, his children, his husband-

 

But maybe because he hadn’t addressed many of the things in his own mind, so many things he shoved to the back of his head, that they came back to eat him alive. He’d gone through hours upon hours of therapy without ever talking about all of his experiences he’d been through, without ever addressing the fact that he’d been raped; the experience was still too painful to address for him, still too frightening to admit to. Most of his life, he managed to put off the memories, the flashbacks, but when the threat was back, when he knew he could go through all of it again, the memories were too painful to cope with.

 

Freddie broke out into sobbing, too overwhelmed and upset, guilty that he wasn’t feeling awful for anyone but himself, and yet he didn’t feel as though he had room in his mind left to feel frightened for others. 

 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Jim stroked his hair, trying to soothe him. “You’re okay, baby, you’re nice and safe here, we’re all safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He whispered.

 

“He’s- he’s going to-” Freddie stammered.

 

“He’s not going to do anything, darling, not to me or you or anyone. The police know all about it, they’re going to keep all of us safe.” Jim pulled the blankets around him; he knew from experience that Freddie loved to feel warm, that he loved the heaviness, the feeling of safety around his body. “Breathe for me, follow me.”

 

Freddie laid his head against Jim’s chest, hiccuping from his sobs- his eyes were still closed tightly, one less sense to deal with when his mind was in overload. He let himself be pulled back so they were both laying down, wishing his mind would be quiet, wishing it would all just shut up-

 

He took Jim’s hand and squeezed hard; he was so overwhelmed, so frightened of his own head. “It’s happening-” He whispered fearfully, his hand touching his head gingerly. “I want to- I can’t-”

 

“Hush, sweetheart, I’ve got you.” He held onto him tightly, holding him close so there was no way he could escape. 

 

Freddie went quiet, willing himself to just calm down, to stay in control, to breathe, to kick the thoughts out of his head. He shut his eyes again, still clutching onto him, taking back control of his body one part at a time; his breathing, his fingers, his heartbeat-

 

Jim started to hum, soft and gentle, giving his mind something to focus on, and Freddie relaxed as though he’d slipped into a warm bath. He listened to him for several minutes, allowing himself to let go, to sink and swim with each note, a tune so familiar and so close to his heart.

 

“I used to sing that to Bear when he couldn’t sleep.” He whispered, shivering when Jim’s arms wrapped fully back around his shoulders. “I sung it to Ru on Wednesday.”

 

Jim held his breath for a few moments, scared that Reuben’s name would trigger the same response, and breathed a sigh of relief when Freddie stayed calm. “You did.” He whispered.

 

“I was okay.” Freddie whispered. “I was- I was happy, I was taking my tablets, I was being good, this shouldn’t have happened.”

 

“Everything got a little too stressful, darling.” Jim said soothingly; this wasn’t the first time that Freddie had relapsed into anxiety and panic, but it was definitely the worst he’d seen. “I think you’ve been bottling things up, and your brain was trying to protect you from thinking about everything.”

 

“I can’t talk.” He murmured. “I can’t, I’m- I’m scared.”

 

It was only natural that they’d hit a block in his therapy; Jim had been expecting it all along. “It’s okay, sweetheart. The doctors are going to change your medication a little. They can tell that you’re doing well with fluoxetine, but we all think you could do with a higher dose, even if it is just while we get over this hurdle.” He rubbed Freddie’s back gently. “We want you to feel as good as you did a few days ago.”

 

“I can’t remember.” He admitted. 

 

“It should come back.” Jim tried to make his voice more firm, as though it would convince them both. “And you can come home, and the police can deal with Paul, and we’ll go back to normal.”

 

“I want normal.” Freddie whispered; in his mind, the picture of normality was the Clore studio, his lover - his husband, he reminded himself, they were apparently married - behind the piano, his children in the corner, colouring, safe, happy, warm,  _ safe- _

 

_ He wanted normal so badly. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your lovely reception to Freddie's decision to take medication in the last chapter! This fic is 100% supportive of every type of therapy for mental health issues - there is no shame in hospitalisation, or medication, or talking therapy if it is what somebody needs at a time of need. I refuse to demonise the medical profession for doing their job, and I want to celebrate the fact that people can get help for their problems if they need it.


	44. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He really wants to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is enjoyable in comparison to the last chapter!

“Daddy is very poorly, darling.” Jim smoothed a hand over the front of Oliver’s coat and buttoned it quickly. “Which is why he’s been in hospital for these last few days. We’re going to go and visit him.”

 

Oliver whimpered at the sound of his words; he didn’t want his daddy to be poorly. “Is he going to die?” He asked, sounding so small and so vulnerable.

 

“Oh, baby, he’s not poorly like that.” Jim kissed his forehead, trying to reassure him. “It’s his mind that’s poorly, not his body. He’s forgotten a lot of things.”

 

Tears welled in his eyes. “Does Daddy remember me?” He whispered.

 

“Yes, darling, he does.” Jim hugged him tightly. “He remembers you, and he misses you an awful lot.”

 

Oliver nodded and rubbed his eyes. “I want Daddy.” He murmured.

 

* * *

 

“You’ve got a visitor.” Jim smiled when he came into Freddie’s little area on the ward. “A little man wanted to come and see you.”

 

“Bear?” Freddie asked hopefully, sitting up immediately when they both came into his cubicle. “Oh, sweetheart!” He said excitedly, holding out his arms for Oliver.

 

Oliver broke into the biggest smile and ran over to Freddie, hauling himself up and straight into Freddie’s arms. Freddie wrapped his arms around his son, letting himself be overwhelmed this time by the feeling of the little boy, his son, the familiar smell of his shampoo and the softness of his skin and the fluffiness of his curls that he would never let Jim cut-

 

“I love you.” Freddie whispered, the only alternative words he could find that kept him from bursting into tears. 

 

“Love you, Daddy.” Oliver smiled up at him and rested his cheek against his collarbone. “When are you coming home?”

 

Freddie kissed the top of his head and closed his eyes. “I don’t know, darling. When I’m feeling better.”

 

“What’s wrong?” He asked softly.

 

“You know how sometimes I get upset and I panic when things go wrong?” He asked. “And Pop has to calm me down and cuddle me and make me feel better? It’s like that, but it’s more serious this time.”

 

Oliver frowned and touched Freddie’s cheek gently. “You’re sad?” He whispered.

 

“I’m-” Freddie’s eyes welled with tears and he looked up at the ceiling, trying not to get upset in front of his son; Oliver shouldn’t have to deal with any of this. “I’m feeling very- very scared at the moment.” He whispered.

 

Oliver threw his arms around Freddie’s neck, almost as if to protect him, and hugged him tightly. Freddie wrapped his arms around the little boy and buried his face in his hair, trying to calm himself though his fingers had started to shake; he didn’t want to fall into panic with his little boy so close-

 

Jim gently took his hand, having seen the look of fear cross his face, and ran his thumb back and forth across his hand. Freddie took a deep breath, watching his thumb move, and another memory came across his mind-

 

_ “Breathe, baby.” Jim whispered in his ear, taking his hand and gently stroking it with the pad of his thumb. Freddie timed his breaths to the movement of his thumb, forcing his body to relax, keeping himself from panicking; he found himself tiredly relaxing into his fiance’s side. “Do you feel okay?” _

 

_ “I feel sick.” Freddie murmured, his heart still beating out of his chest. “I don’t want to know, I don’t, I can’t-” _

 

_ “Breathe.” Jim repeated again. “You’re doing wonderfully. You just need to keep breathing for me.” _

 

_ Freddie nodded and turned into his chest, holding close to him, letting his eyes fall shut for a moment as he reclaimed his brain. _

 

“Come here.” Freddie whispered, reaching for Jim and snuggling down in his arms when he came close enough. He closed his eyes when he finally felt comforted, his little boy against his chest, his head on his husband’s chest, just like those old days when it had been the three of them.

 

_ Jim had never expected to have such a chaotic four-year-old, or how much it would bring out Freddie’s own inner child, until he watched his boys chasing each other around the house with poster paint, Freddie’s fingers smudged purple and red while Olly had green and blue paint all over his hands. He watched Freddie relent control for once, to stop obsessing about his beautiful and pristine house- _

 

_ He heard a screech of laughter from Freddie’s studio and watched Oliver paint hand prints all over the bare white walls, Freddie using the paint on his fingers to turn the hand prints into flowers and giraffes and sunshines smiling down on the both of them. _

 

_ “Can I join in?” He grinned. _

 

_ Freddie threw him a bottle of poster paint and grinned at him as he covered his own hands in yellow. _

 

* * *

 

Freddie sat in the lounge of the ward, knees tucked beneath him, sipping on a mug of tea - they didn’t have chamomile, his usual evening drink, nor Earl Grey, and so he’d had to go for English breakfast with milk and sugar - and closed his eyes heavily. All he wanted was his chamomile in his bed, but he wasn’t even allowed to take his tea to his cubicle in case he used it to scald himself.

 

“These are for you, darling.” A woman handed him a little paper capsule of pills and a glass of water as she sat beside him. “We’ve changed your prescription a little.”

 

“What do I take?” Freddie asked curiously, turning the tablets over in his hand. He was caught between two people in his mind, the emotional side telling him to throw them away, that he didn’t take pills, but his rational reminded him that a lot had elapsed that he couldn’t remember. “How long have I taken them for?”

 

“You’ve been taking the little green one for a couple of weeks. That’s fluoxetine, you take that for anxiety, panic and low moods.” She explained. “That’s diazepam, which is going to help you sleep a little better tonight. You’ve just had this for a couple of days, and you won’t be on it for very long. And the other one is propranolol, which we’re using to help your shaking, so that your anxiety doesn’t feel so physical.”

 

Freddie swallowed them one by one, and then took a mouthful of his tea. “They’re chalky.” He shook his head and sipped his tea again. “When can I go home?”

 

“Soon.” She promised. “You’re cooperating wonderfully with treatment.”

 

“Do I have to get my memories back?” Freddie asked, hugging his knees. 

 

“Not necessarily. Being at home might help you with that. We just want to know that you’re definitely not going to be a danger to yourself, it wouldn’t be fair for us to let you out of here too soon.” She crossed her legs and turned to him a little more when he looked horrified.

 

“You think I’d hurt myself?” He asked quickly.

 

“Some of what you’ve said before has given rise to a little bit of concern, Freddie. Your husband was telling us that you’d been having some thoughts of ending your life.” She said gently.

 

“What?” He asked, sitting up quickly and accidentally sloshing some tea over the side of the mug. He put it down quickly and licked off the tea before it burned, suddenly realising why eyes had been on him the whole time. “But he was describing my life, and it- it sounds wonderful!”

 

“Do you remember the man that assaulted you?” She asked gently, trying to introduce him to each idea a little at a time so that he wasn’t too overwhelmed.

 

“Yes.” Freddie bit his thumbnail and closed his eyes momentarily, repeating what he’d been taught - to distract himself with a happy thought.

 

_ He tiptoed up the old stairs, wincing at each creak, and carefully opened their bedroom door, trying to be as silent as possible. Jim was fast asleep, face buried between pillows, and Freddie watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he undressed quickly, clothes hitting the floor with a soft thud. He kept the sweater on as he peeled back the bedclothes and climbed inside. _

 

_ He didn’t realise he was shivering until a strong arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him in closer. Freezing toes were pressed to Jim’s thighs, cold fingers bunched in quasi-newborn fists; every inch of skin was snow-cold. “You’re freezing.” Jim murmured, opening one eye to look over his boyfriend. “Wait- let me-” His voice was thick with sleep as he grabbed a thick blanket from the foot of the bed and pulled it on top of their duvet. _

 

_ Freddie smiled sleepily and gladly curled in closer. “Thank you.” He whispered, cold nose pressed into the crook of Jim’s neck. _

 

_ “Where did you go?” Jim was still half asleep, and Freddie wanted nothing more than to sleep a little while longer with him. The bed was so addictively soft, every bit of fabric yielding to his body, wrapping him in an embrace that dragged him towards his dreams. _

 

_ “Work.” Freddie smiled tiredly. “Go back to sleep.” _

 

“Well, you discovered that he was the father of two of your children. And you found out that he knows about it.” She decided to leave it at that; she wouldn’t remind him of all of the threats against him yet. “And you were having trouble coming to terms with all of it, hence why you were feeling low. That’s why you decided on the medication.”

 

Freddie almost couldn’t believe that he couldn’t recall any of it. “I can’t remember it.” He admitted.

 

“What can you remember?” She asked him. “Who are you?”

 

“What I’ve been told or what I remember?” He questioned.

 

“What you remember.”

 

“I’m Farrokh Bulsara, I’m nineteen.” He shrugged, his cheeks heating. “But I know that’s going to make you think that I’m crazy, because my name’s Freddie Hutton and I’m twenty-six.”

 

“Do you believe that?” She asked curiously.

 

“My boyfriend told me about it and the doctor showed me a calendar and it’s clearly nineteen-seventy-six. I know I was born in nineteen-fifty, which makes me twenty-six. I’m assuming that there isn’t some conspiracy to make me think it’s the wrong year, so I’m probably wrong.” He smiled wryly. “I just wish I could remember the last seven years. I don’t know why I can remember everything, all the shit my father put me through and- and-” He bit his lip and fought to stay in control; he couldn’t verbalise it. “But I can’t remember our life together, my engagement and my honeymoon and my fucking wedding to the only man I’ve ever really loved, having our children and going up on stage and just being happy.” He whispered.

 

“Tell me what you went through.” She gently touched his hand, though he flinched. “This came about because you’ve had a lot of trouble with bottling things up. You need to talk, darling.”

 

“Will it get me out of here?” He asked quietly, resting his chin on his knees. 

 

“It will certainly help.” She agreed.

 

Freddie steeled himself and grabbed his mug, holding it close to his chest. “I was- I was-” He forced himself to calm down, trying not to trigger another panic attack. He had to believe them when they said it could help. “I was sexually assaulted when I was sixteen.”

 

“Is that what you hold on to?” She asked.

 

Freddie wasn’t really listening anymore; he was watching it happen again in his mind, detached as though he was watching footage of somebody else. “I wanted to get away from my father.” He whispered. “I was tucked up in bed, I was auditioning in the morning, he came to the door and he told me that if I didn’t suck his cock then I’d never be a dancer.” His eyes glazed over a little and he lolled his head to the side, his cheek pressed to his knee. “I hated myself. I didn’t think my virginity was special, or that I was special. I was going to tell him no, but his- his promises sounded too good, I couldn’t not listen to him. I just let him use me however he wanted.” He closed his eyes. “It wasn’t really assault. I consented. I was- I was all on my own, I didn’t trust anybody, I was frightened. I thought he’d help me.”

 

“Did he help you?” She questioned.

 

“Yes. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be a dancer.” He said quietly. “I’m not talented enough to make it on my own. It was his influence that got me a role.”

 

“Do you know that?” She frowned.

 

“Look at me.” Freddie looked down at his body; he could feel that pain in his rib if he tried hard enough, the fragile press of his hip bones. “I’m nothing special.”

 

“Nobody could’ve done as well as you on someone else’s merit, Freddie.” She said gently.

 

“It’s because I was his lover, he slipped me into every show we did, got me promotions, everything. So long as I let him fuck me, let him hit me, let him do whatever he wanted to me, then he would work for me.” He closed his eyes and let a tear dribble down his cheek. “And because I never said no, he was never discouraged. When I was tired, he would put me to sleep and he’d fuck me while I was out and I’d wake up and feel so ashamed and humiliated because I was- I was a child, really, and nobody else I knew had to do those things to be successful. It was only because I was mediocre and I would’ve never gotten in otherwise.” He hugged his knees as he started to cry, the feeling of guilt and shame washing over him. “It was so scary.” He whispered.

 

She leaned over and hugged him close. “It’s brave of you to tell me.” She said gently.

 

“Why is it me?” He whispered.

 

“Because you were willing to love and trust, Freddie. Not many people can say the same thing.” She explained soothingly. 

 

* * *

 

Freddie lay lazily over his shoulder, glad to have his husband so close by him again; his head was resting on his shoulder, curling into his chest. “I love you.” He murmured.

 

“I love you too.” Jim pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You seem like you’re doing better today.”

 

“They gave me some tablets to help me sleep. I feel a lot better.” He nodded. “They stopped me from having any nightmares, so I think I slept through. Although the nurse said I got up and went to the linen cupboard and started refolding the towels at one point in the night.” He chuckled.

 

“Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve done that to put yourself to sleep.” Jim chuckled, tracing the line of his spine up and down.

 

“Definitely not.” Freddie agreed. He looked across the empty lounge, discarded magazines and off-centre keys, and then looked at the piano in the corner. “Will you play for me?”

 

“Piano? Of course.” Jim laughed when Freddie clung onto him and sat himself down on the stool, Freddie still tucked up against his chest. “If you move, you’ll throw me off.” Jim warned.

 

“Play.” Freddie whined.

 

Jim kissed his temple and started to play for him, choosing a simple little piece from The Sleeping Beauty, the ballet they were currently performing; he idly wondered if Freddie would remember the steps from it, as he had all those years ago.

 

Freddie, though, Freddie was spinning out of control; he looked up quickly, his eyes meeting Jim’s-

 

_ “Christ!” He laughed as Freddie tugged him down. “It’s fucking freezing!” _

 

_ “Language!” Freddie scolded playfully; Jim swore like any other Irishman he’d ever met, but he’d done his best to curtail it around the children. “It gets warmer if you duck your head under.” _

 

_ “That sounds fake.” Jim insisted, but Oliver grabbed his bucket, filled it with water and dumped it on Jim’s head, giggling incessantly. Jim screeched with the cold, but he hated that Freddie was right- the temperature started to even out, especially as the sun warmed his skin. _

 

_ “See?” Freddie teased and kissed him lightly. “You taste all salty.” _

 

_ Jim cupped his cheek as the children splashed them and kissed him again. “The woman I was just talking to was going crazy over your body.” He chuckled. “Apparently you’re the quite the view.” _

 

“Oh my God-” Freddie murmured.

 

_ “I’m literally going to break my fucking neck.” Freddie shook his hair from his face, but the softness around his eyes suggested a gentle laughter. “You won’t fuck me when I’ve broken a leg, but this is okay?” _

 

_ “Oh, stop whining, princess.” Jim kissed his cheek. “It’ll make the kids happy.” _

 

_ “If that’s all it takes, I’m going to use that excuse next time you won’t blow me.” He muttered. “It’ll make the kids happy.” _

 

_ “Get your mind out the gutter.” Jim laughed. His arm was tight around Freddie’s waist as they carefully made their way towards the fountains. The splash park had been Freddie’s idea, a veritable luxury in the thirty degree heat, and he’d promised to sit and look after their bags while the children played with Jim. Together, though, the rest of his family had planned logistically how they could get him into the water without requiring crutches or breaking anything else. “It’s wet, don’t slip.” _

 

_ “God, I would never have known that.” Freddie said sarcastically, and then burst out laughing. “I’m scared for my damn life, darling, I’m trying my best.” _

 

“Jim, it’s-” He stammered.

 

_ “I wanted to call a little toast.” Jim leaned against the kitchen counter and smiled over at his boyfriend. “To our new house, and to the continuation of our life together. Take this house as a symbol of everlasting commitment and love to one another.” He took Freddie’s hand gently and squeezed. “Because somehow, I was lucky enough to stumble across this gorgeous man in the back of a night club, and ever since, I’ve wondered what practical joke fate was playing on me. And somehow, to this day, he still likes me enough to set up a gorgeous family home which I hope is one day as loud as it is tonight every day.” He lifted his glass to the air. “To the Mercury-Hutton household.” _

 

_ The call was echoed back and Jim touched his glass with at least half of the room before he finally drank, taking the longest moment to centre himself that he could afford without suspicion. “And I think we have only one more thing to finish before we can really start our party.” He said, injecting a note of confidence to his voice that he didn’t really possess. He placed his glass on the side and took Freddie’s hand again, smiling to himself. _

 

_ It wasn’t until he got down on one knee that Freddie suddenly understood what he meant.  _

 

_ “Darling-” Jim started, kissing the back of his hand. He took the ring box from his pocket and opened it carefully, revealing the most beautiful ring Freddie had ever laid his eyes upon.  “Let’s make this our forever home. Will you marry me?” _

 

“I can-” He whispered.

 

_ Jim leaned over the back of the sofa to press a gentle kiss to Freddie’s forehead; one beautiful, if sleep-heavy, eye opened in response. He smiled as he saw his lover, yawning and rubbing his eyes before reaching up to kiss him properly. “Good evening, darling.” He said softly. _

 

_ Jim chuckled and cupped his cheek as they kissed lazily. “Good evening, my love.” He replied. Freddie shifted a little, accidentally bumping an elbow against Oliver, who jumped awake. He was about to complain, but on seeing Jim, he jumped off the sofa excitedly. _

 

_ “Pop!” He giggled as Jim picked him up and swung him around playfully, wrapping his little arms around his neck.  _

 

_ “Hello, Bear.” He kissed the little boy’s nose. “Have you had fun today?” _

 

_ “Yes!” He said excitedly. “Daddy and I made biscuits and we did some dancing and we did some colouring and I got to colour in daddy!” _

 

Suddenly, he was screeching with excitement. “I can remember!”


	45. Closure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's ready to take the next step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is everything you've ever wanted!

Freddie yawned, flicking the pages of his sketchbook sleepily as he lay on his front and crossed his ankles. He picked up a pencil and added shading to the little portrait of Talulah he’d been working on; his therapist had recommended desensitising himself with photos and drawings of his little ones, trying to separate the memories he had of them from the memories of their biological father. He recalled every memory he could of the time they’d spent together, mornings in bed and evenings on the sofa, her birthday on the beach, his birthday in the studio, buying her toys and listening to her laughter that he had caused.

 

She hated Paul as much as he did; he had to do his best to separate them in his head.

 

“How’s it going, sweetheart?” His nurse - Anna, he’d come to know her as - smiled at him as she wandered into the cubicle. “It’s getting late.”

 

“I know. The tablets are kicking in.” He rested his chin on his palm and closed his eyes momentarily. “Have I got anymore?”

 

“Depends on how you’re feeling. If you’re feeling sleepy, you shouldn’t need anything more.” She sat in the chair beside his bed. “What are you doing?”

 

“Drawing.” He picked up the sketchbook and handed it to her. “That’s my little girl.”

 

“That’s a beautiful portrait. Have you got a photograph of her?” She asked.

 

“No, I did it from memory. The doctors were a little wary of having photos of her in case it upset me, but I think- I think I’m thinking differently.” He bit his lip. “Because she hates him as much as I do, it’s not like she’s ever defended him. It’s not her fault that she’s his biologically.”

 

“You know, it’s wonderful that you can say that to me. That’s good, rational thinking.” She complimented him. “I’ve got a question for you.”

 

“Hm?” Freddie asked, feeling drowsier as he put his sketchbook and pencils on the spare armchair next to him. 

 

“Obviously, you know you’ve been in triage for a week now. Generally, after a week we start to look at either discharging you or putting you on a longer-term ward.” She explained. “How much do you feel like you’re able to cope?”

 

Freddie looked down at his hands and bit his lip. “I can, I think. Well, I mean, I-” He sighed. “I don’t know.”

 

“What holds you back?” She questioned. 

 

“I don’t know if I’ll get upset when I see my other little ones. It’s not their fault, but it- it’s all jumbled up.” He rubbed a hand through his curls. “But then I feel like I should try, I can’t stay in here my whole life. I can’t just keep hiding. And I miss- I miss going to work, and I don’t really like all the restrictions on what I can and can’t do. But then I’m scared of all the freedom.” He smiled wryly. “I sound crazy.”

 

“You don’t sound crazy, Freddie.” She said reassuringly. “You sound anxious. That’s nothing to be ashamed of, it’s a perfectly normal reaction to a change in environment.”

 

“If I do go home-” He smiled nervously. “Can I keep the tablets? I feel better when I’m sleeping properly.”

 

“Of course, darling. We’ll have a couple of medication and therapy appointments in the first few weeks that you’re at home, so it’s not such a shock landing. You can keep taking the tablets like you are now, and then we can reassess what’ll fit you better when you’re back in your natural environment.” She rubbed his back comfortingly.

 

Freddie breathed a sigh of relief. “That makes it feel less scary.” He admitted. 

 

“So, shall we agree that you’ll try being at home?” She asked. “Remember, you can always come back to us if it all gets a bit much, even if it’s only for the night. You don’t have to go straight to being on your own again.”

 

“Yeah.” He agreed. “We’ll try. I- I can try.” He said, sounding a little more determined.

 

* * *

 

Freddie curled up on the corner of the sofa, completely surrounded by children; Oliver lay under his right arm, Talulah under his left, Reuben laying on his chest. He felt so fucking accomplished, just from getting home, eating dinner with his family, and keeping control of his mind. He took the book from Oliver, flicking through the pages, and then smiled. “Where were we, sweetheart? Daddy can’t quite remember the page.”

 

Talulah knelt up and peered at the book, pointing to the right line. “There, Daddy.” She smiled sweetly.

 

Freddie dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Thank you.” He smiled. He started to read, rubbing his fingers up and down Reuben’s back - he was almost certain that the little boy was fast asleep by now - and watched the sleepy smile grow on Oliver’s face as he relaxed against his father.

 

“Oh, isn’t this cozy?” Jim chuckled, coming into the lounge and pressing a kiss to the top of Freddie’s head. “Is there any room for a little one?”

 

Talulah reached tiredly for her father, smiling when he let her snuggle against his chest. Jim lay beside Freddie and wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close against his side and indulging in the feeling and the knowledge of having his husband beside him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your reading.” He apologised.

 

“I think the kids are practically asleep already.” Freddie smiled, snuggling down himself. “Maybe we could all just do with some quiet time.”

 

“How are you doing?” Jim asked, smiling when Reuben blinked awake and started to play with his father’s wedding ring. 

 

“I’m alright. I’m a bit- a bit anxious, but I took these beta-blockers and so my heart feels okay, and that makes me stress less. I hate the feeling of my heart racing.” Freddie played with the little boy’s fingers, chuckling when Reuben stretched out his fingers, measuring his hand against Freddie’s. He stretched out his hand and then curled his fingers around Reuben’s, holding the little boy’s hand safe in his own. “You’re so little.” He murmured, poking the pink spots on Reuben’s cheek when he smiled.

 

“Da.” Reuben grinned up at Freddie and poked his cheek in retaliation. “Love you.” He giggled.

 

Freddie’s eyes widened in surprise and he turned to Jim. “Have you been teaching him words?” He asked.

 

“I haven’t had the time.” Jim chuckled. “He’s just heard all of us say it to each other far too much.”

 

“It can never be too much.” Freddie pulled Reuben closer and peppered kisses across his cheeks, giggling when he squealed in delight. “I love you, Ru.”

 

“I want kisses!” Oliver whined, kneeling up beside Freddie.

 

“How do we ask nicely, sweetheart?” Jim asked, taking out Talulah’s braids as she lay against him. 

 

“Kisses, please.” Oliver smiled hopefully.

 

“There’s more than enough to go around.” Freddie dropped a kiss on both of his cheeks, his forehead and his nose. “I love you, Bear.”

 

“I love my Daddy.” He grinned. “Daddy, can we come to work with you and Pop?”

 

Freddie arched an eyebrow. “Why, sweetness?” He asked curiously.

 

“I miss Ga.” He admitted, resting his head on Freddie’s shoulder. “I want to dance with Ga.”

 

Olga’s love for the children hadn’t gone unnoticed; the children had taken to her with all the love in the world, and she had returned it tenfold. She often had them in the studio if they weren’t at school, listening to their sweet little giggles while Freddie rehearsed whatever show was coming up next. 

 

_ “What do you think, Olly?” Olga asked, picking him up and sitting him on her knee so that he could watch his father. “Do you like the dance?” _

 

_ “Daddy’s foot is wrong.” He said confidently, pointing at the a _ _ ngle of Freddie’s planted foot. His other was up in the air, held surely by Robbie in an arabesque penchée; he hopped about when he didn’t let go. _

 

_ “I’m all for this, but can we-” He wobbled dangerously, his hands touching the floor. “Put me down!” _

 

_ Robbie laughed and put him down. “Sorry, Fred.” He helped right him with two hands on his waist as Freddie went back down onto the flat of his foot. _

 

_ “So you want me a little more-” Freddie stood up en pointe again, leaning his side against Robbie’s chest, and turned his foot out a little more. _

 

_ “That’s it!” She agreed. “Good spot, Olly!” _

 

“I’ll see what I can do, darling.” Freddie chuckled.

 

* * *

 

Jim was halfway through ironing his blacks for the evening, and Freddie was in the shower; the children were in Lulah and Olly’s room, working on one huge drawing. Jim was enjoying a moment of peace, eyes closing in content, as he allowed himself to relax; his own anxiety had been through the roof, trying to keep everyone organised and okay and supported, and he was glad that everything seemed to be calming down now.

 

The phone rang and he stood the iron in its holder, brushing off his trousers before he headed to the hall.

 

“Can you get that?” Freddie shouted from the bathroom, poking his head around the door. “I would, but I’m naked.”

 

“Yes, darling.” Jim chuckled, picking up the receiver. “Hello?”

 

“Is this the right number for Freddie Hutton?” An unfamiliar voice asked.

 

“Who is this?” Jim frowned.

 

“My name is Elizabeth, I’m one of the doctors at Wakefield Prison. Is this the right number for Freddie?” She asked again.

 

“Yes.” Jim said quickly. “Freddie!”

 

“What?” He called back, quickly throwing on some briefs and his dressing gown. “Who is it?”

 

“Wakefield.” He held out the phone for him.

 

Freddie frowned and walked over, taking the receiver. “Hello?”

 

“Is this Freddie Hutton?” She asked.

 

“Yes.” He replied, resting his hand on the counter. “Why are you calling?”

 

“You’re the nominated next-of-kin for a Mr. Paul Prenter.” She replied. “Does that sound right?”

 

Freddie grabbed Jim’s hand quickly, squeezing tight; Jim responded immediately by wrapping his arms around his waist and holding him close and tight. “Yes.” He replied, his voice going small.

 

“I have some important news. Are you able to receive it?” She asked, her voice softening.

 

Freddie looked up at Jim fearfully, clutching to him, his heart pounding with fear that it was news he’d escaped, he was after him, he’d have to leave his house and leave his family and leave everything he’d come to love-

 

“Yes.” He squeaked eventually.

 

“I’m afraid I have to let you know that Paul- he died on our ward at about eleven o’clock this morning.” She said gently. “His upcoming trial for child sexual assault was found out by one of the other inmates and he- he was attacked during the night. His injuries proved fatal.”

 

Freddie dropped the receiver with a clatter and grabbed onto his husband. “I’m going to faint-” He said urgently, giving Jim enough time to get him to the ground. He managed to stay conscious, though his head hung low and he gasped for breath. 

 

“What was it, sweetheart?” Jim asked gently. “Is everything okay?”

 

“He’s dead.” Freddie whispered, closing his eyes for a moment. “He’s dead, he’s fucking dead, he was murdered-”

 

“What?” Jim gasped. “What, really?”

 

Freddie nodded and clasped his hands behind his neck, leaning forward heavily. “Murdered for sexually abusing a child. That’s- that’s Ru.” His eyes seemed to light up in that moment. “A two-year-old took him down. The rest of us, we put him in that place, and Ru pulled the trigger.”

 

“Fucking hell.” Jim whispered. “He- he can’t get us. There’s nothing he can do.”

 

“There’s nothing he can do.” Freddie echoed. “There’s nothing, there’s absolutely nothing he can do. He’s fucking dead.”

 

Jim clasped him to his chest and pressed kisses all over his face, overwhelmed with excitement. “I- I can’t believe it.” He whispered. “You know what this means, baby?”

 

Freddie looked up at him, looking like the young man - the boy, he was practically a child - that he’d first met all those years ago; he wasn’t guarding himself, his expression of shy hope, wonder. “What?” He whispered.

 

“You’re safe forever.” Jim rubbed his back, kissing the top of his head. “Your whole family, all of us, we’re safe. He’s gone.”

 

“I shouldn’t be so happy that someone’s been killed.” Freddie whispered guiltily.

 

“You didn’t murder him. His death has nothing to do with you.” He said gently. “So you being happy about it has no bearings on what happened. Whether you felt happy or unhappy, he’d still be dead. So you might as well celebrate.” Jim chuckled.

 

Freddie let a flicker of a smile cross his face. “You’re right.” He whispered. “Where’s the cigarettes?”

 

Jim arched an eyebrow. “You haven’t smoked for eight years, Freddie.”

 

“Haven’t I?” He asked curiously. “God, I’ve been itching for one the whole time we’ve been home. But I guess I shouldn’t, if I managed to kick that habit. It’ll be a bitch to give up again.”

 

“Sounds like good logic.” Jim agreed.

 

“But what can we have to celebrate?” He asked curiously.

 

Jim thought for a few seconds. “Tea?”

 

Freddie laughed, open and happy. “Perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ding, dong, the witch is dead*


	46. Barre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He has to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so into this fic at the moment I won't lie to you!

“How do you feel?”

 

Freddie looked up, fingers twisted tightly together, and bit his lip shyly. “I’m doing okay.” He nodded. 

 

“Is that the truth?” Harvey asked carefully, smiling comfortingly at Freddie. 

 

“I-” He met her eyes and squeezed his hands even more. “I suppose not. It’s been a lot of highs and lows, I- I got some wonderful news, and I felt so alive, and I felt so happy. But I’m struggling with the flashbacks again.” He sighed. “I thought I was over them.”

 

“What type are they?” She asked.

 

“They’re physical. I feel- I feel literal pain, even when I’m not injured, every time I remember somewhere he hurt me. I can remember the times I was belted by my father, it’s like the scars hurt again, or when I touch my surgery scars, or the places I was bruised, or whatever. And then, because it hurts, I start to panic more.” He said shamefully.

 

“Why does it make you panic?” She questioned. “Is it difficult to separate now from then?”

 

“Not so much.” Freddie whispered. “A little while ago, just after we got our daughter, Jim and I had this whole blowout and I didn’t go home for nearly a week. He- he said that we wouldn’t have any problems with the kids or anything if I was normal.” He swallowed. “And he apologised, and I forgave him, and it was months ago now, but I can’t help but worry that he- he resents me, you know, because I’m not normal, and I feel pain that isn’t even there, and sometimes I can’t help with the children because I feel so sad and anxious that I can’t even move. He-” He bit his lip, hard. “He deserves better than me.”

 

“Let’s think about that.” She suggested. “Why do you think he loves you? What parts of your personality is he in love with? What does he say?”

 

Freddie blushed immediately and looked away from her eyes. “He likes that I’m creative.” He said eventually.

 

“Creative.” She nodded. “What else?”

 

“He says that I’m talented.” He whispered. “And- and that he likes to watch me with the children. He likes it when I read stories to them or play with them in the bath, because I can make them smile.”

 

“This is good, Freddie, keep going. What else does he love about you?” She asked.

 

“He says he’s proud that I can be strong. He says he’s proud that even when I’m at my lowest, I’m strong enough to tackle the problem. He’s proud that I decided to take medication, and he’s proud that I’ve tried really hard with my therapy.” He started to smile a little. “He loves that I work so hard, that I’m so passionate about what I do, and that it always makes me energetic and uplifted. He loves that I know how to look after myself. He says that I’m beautiful.”

 

She smiled at the upturn of his lips. “Anything else?”

 

“I’m very affectionate.” Freddie said more confidently. “And he loves that he can wake up at two in the morning and I’ll still be asleep against his chest. He loves that I’ve never wanted my own space, and that we can still sit laying on each other or I’ll sit in his lap. He loves that we always make time for each other in the evenings. It doesn’t have to be sex, or anything like that, sometimes we just sit together and he reads and I draw, or I stretch while he plays me something he’s working on, or we go swimming together, or we drink tea in the garden on warm nights.”

 

“So he’s got a very loving, very affectionate husband, who always makes time for him, and is brilliant with his children. He is very creative, he’s talented, he’s dedicated to his art, and despite everything he’s been through, he’s strong enough to reach out for help when he needs it, and he’s strong enough to engage with everything that people ask of him.” She recited back to him. “What part of that doesn’t Jim deserve?”

 

“He deserves all of it.” Freddie smiled shyly.

 

“And you know what, Freddie?” She grinned and leaned back in her chair. “I don’t think anybody else would love him as well as you do. If he had another lover, and they didn’t have any mental health problems, that wouldn’t mean that they’d want to stay cuddled up to him all night. It wouldn’t mean that they’d choose to spend their evenings with him. It wouldn’t mean that they’d have a big, lovely family, all supporting each other.” She told him. “You assume that everyone has the same disposition as you, and that they’d love him in the same way. But the truth is, Freddie, that no one else is quite like you, and that’s why he loves you.”

 

* * *

 

“Oh, baby-” Jim chuckled and wrapped his arms around his lover, pressing a kiss against his forehead. Freddie had come straight into the house, dropped his bag on the floor, and had thrown his arms around Jim’s middle, tucking his face away against his chest and squeezing tight. “This is a lovely hello.”

 

“I love you.” Freddie replied. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you so much.”

 

“I love you too, my darling.” Jim said gently, cradling the back of his head and holding him close. “Was your therapy okay?”

 

“It was really good.” Freddie smiled, closing his eyes. “We did some exercises to challenge my illogical thoughts, and it was really helpful.”

 

“What kind of things were you doing?” He asked curiously, stroking Freddie’s hair. 

 

“We talked a lot about panic attacks and flashbacks. I was saying that I was frightened because I was worried that you’d get upset again that I wasn’t normal-”

 

“Freddie-” Jim started.

 

“No, no, but she told me something I’d never thought about before. I always think that if someone else loved you, and they didn’t have any mental health problems, they’d be just like me but better. But she- she pointed out that just because they didn’t have any problems wouldn’t mean that they were like me. They might not have all the things that make you love me, they might be bad with children or not cuddly or easily angered or whatever.” He looked up at his husband and smiled. “And that makes me feel better.”

 

“It’s true.” Jim kissed his cheek. “Just because you’re having a tough time doesn’t mean I won’t love you, darling. You know all the things I love about you.”

 

“I like thinking about it. We made a list of the things you love about me, and it made me feel all warm inside. It’s like, even when I struggle to think of things I love about myself, I can always remember the things that you love about me. And they’re- they’re good things, they’re my qualities, I am affectionate and I am good with children and I am creative and I am talented and I am caring and loving and bubbly. And she asked me whether you deserve to have a husband with all those qualities, and of course you do, and you- you deserve me, and I deserve you.” His cheeks flushed and he smiled shyly, overwhelmed by how much he’d said. “Sorry.” He whispered.

 

“Please don’t apologise.” Jim grinned. “I love listening to you talking about yourself. I love listening to your confidence.” He kissed him sweetly. “I’m so glad that you feel like the therapy is working.”

 

“I think I- I almost needed to hit a block.” He explained, though he seemed a little shyer. “I was happy to keep deluding myself that everything was absolutely fine, though I knew it wasn’t. I’ve never stopped having the nightmares, or the panic attacks, or whatever, I’m much happier but I feel as though I could be happier still. I still feel like there’s this part of me that’s dirty, a part of me I’m still repressing, and maybe I wouldn’t have ever addressed it if I hadn’t spiralled. I think that’s why I stalled in the treatment for my- my PTSD-” He still found the word a little difficult to say sometimes. “Because I refused to accept that I was having flashbacks to things I didn’t want to think had ever happened to me.”

 

“That’s a big thing to admit to.” Jim said gently. “What were you repressing?”

 

“The rape.” He whispered. “Which is stupid, because I know it happened, and you know it happened, and it was legally proved and it’s all over my medical records. But it’s just like- it makes me so upset every time I think about it-” Tears welled in his eyes and he looked up at the ceiling, forcing himself to breathe through the cascading wave of emotions. “I just hate it.” He whimpered.

 

Jim held him close and gently rocked them both side to side, trying his best to soothe him. “Do you remember when you first had to accept everything that happened?” He asked gently. “And it used to upset you, it used to make you cry, because it was so raw and so painful? And you had to struggle through all those emotions before you started to feel like you’ve come to terms with it?” He kissed his forehead gently. “We just have to do the same again, darling. But now, you know that you’re safe, you’re not going to be hurt again, you’ve got such a good team around you at the hospital. The Royal are lovely and understanding, you’ve got your whole family around you, my mum is here to help us with the kids if they ever feel like too much- you’re going to be okay.” He murmured.

 

Freddie closed his eyes and relaxed against him. “I’m sorry for landing this all on you.”

 

“You haven’t, darling. I’ve got people to help me with the kids, we’ve got the hospital to help with your mental health so that isn’t all on me to help you, I’ve taken a bit of time off from work so I’m not thinking about that. I’m just fine.” Jim promised.

 

* * *

 

Jim yawned, feeling sleepy, and traced his fingers through Reuben’s hair. The little boy was wriggling beside him, filled with a cold, sniffling through his blocked nose and pouting miserably as another round of coughs came from his chest. “Pop-” He whimpered.

 

“I know, darling.” Jim said soothingly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Take some nice deep breaths for me.”

 

His throat tickled and he started coughing again, whining miserably. He squinted as the bedroom door opened, and Jim glanced up into the sudden beam of light; it was four o’clock in the morning, and he’d been certain that everyone else would be in bed for hours. “I heard that somebody had a cough.” Freddie’s sweet voice came into the room as he approached Reuben’s little bed, throwing a smile at Jim. He knelt beside the bed and put something on the floor, though it was difficult to see in the dark. “You know what Daddy does when he has a cough?”

 

Reuben lit up. “Da.” He said quietly, smiling at his father.

 

“What is it?” Jim asked curiously. Reuben had spat out every cough medicine he’d tried to give him, and he’d resorted to giving him milk to help soothe his throat, though there was only so much success he could have.

 

Freddie opened a jar of honey and dipped a spoon in it, twirling it around and then holding it out for Reuben. “Stick your tongue out, darling.”

 

The little boy licked the spoon hesitantly, wanting to know what it tasted it like, and his face lit up when he got a burst of sweetness over his tongue. He opened his mouth obediently and took the rest of the honey, his cough soothing in moments.

 

“Oh, you genius.” Jim smiled. “This is why we need Daddy, isn’t it, Ru?”

 

“Daddy.” He looped his little arms around Freddie’s neck and snuggled against his chest, making Freddie laugh.

 

“Hello, sweetheart.” Freddie whispered, laying back next to Jim with the little boy close and warm against him. “I missed you, Ru.”

 

Jim gave him his arm and Freddie cushioned his head against his bicep, smiling to himself when Jim kissed his forehead. “You’re such a good daddy.” He complimented, almost mindless in his praise.

 

“The nurse said that it’s best for me to spend as much time with the kids as I can. It’s so- so normalising, it’s something I love. I feel so connected to them, they’re like little pieces of me.” He cuddled Reuben close. “Even when they’re all poorly.” He said sympathetically.

 

“Why are you awake, darling?” Jim asked softly, playing with Freddie’s hair now as he watched Reuben finally fall asleep against his chest. “It’s very early.”

 

“I’ve got work, don’t I?” Freddie smiled. “I can’t keep hiding away from things.”

 

“Are you sure you want to go? You don’t have to, sweetheart, you don’t have to push yourself too hard if it’ll make you feel unwell again.” He said gently. 

 

“I- well-” He bit his lip. “I feel like I need to go to class so I don’t lose everything.”

 

“You won’t lose everything in two weeks.” Jim said soothingly. “I don’t feel as though you should go straight into doing ten hours a day again. I don’t want you to burn out.”

 

His instinct was to say no, that he could do it, that  _ I’ll rest when I’m dead, darling!  _ \- but the long-ignored rational side of his brain shouted at him to, for once in his life, listen to his husband. “I do want to go in.”

 

“Do you want to do your full day?” Jim asked.

 

“Maybe just class.” Freddie suggested shyly. “I could do the midday warm up class. An hour and a quarter.”

 

“That sounds like a good idea.” Jim agreed, his own eyes closing tiredly. “Shall we go back to bed for a little while?”

 

Freddie smiled sleepily. “Sounds perfect.”

 

* * *

 

“Freddie!” Olga ran down the stairs and threw her arms around him. “Oh, darling, I’ve been worried sick about you!”

 

“Worried?” Freddie repeated dumbly.

 

“Jim let me know that you were in the hospital. Don’t worry, I just told people you had a bad chest infection, I didn’t think you’d necessarily want the news going around.” She added quickly. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

 

Freddie’s hands were trembling; he wasn’t quite sure why he was feeling so nervous to be back. “Yeah.” He smiled shyly. “It feels strange.”

 

“I’m sure. You’ve been through a lot.” She kissed his forehead. “You’re just doing class today, I assume?”

 

He nodded, glancing at his feet. “Jim suggested it was probably best not to burn myself out when I’ve been a bit up and down.”

 

“I can understand that.” She agreed. “Come on, darling, your spot at the barre is missing you.”


	47. Gems and Poster Paint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all catches up to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jim is such an important character and I feel like I haven't addressed the strain on him enough

Charlotte stepped out onto the balcony and looked over her son, arching a playful eyebrow when she spotted the cigarette between his fingers. “After you told your husband he couldn’t have one?” She asked.

 

“Don’t tell Freddie.” He said quickly, holding it out over the edge so that he didn’t get ash on the floor. “He’ll kill me. We’re not supposed to smoke if we’re going to adopt Reuben. It’s just- it’s a bit of stress relief.”

 

“It’s alright, darling, I understand.” She nodded. “Just don’t let Freddie catch you.”

 

“I’ve only had two or three. It’s temporary.” He promised. “He has his ways of coping, I have mine. We’re just finding the balance again.”

 

“Are you okay?” She asked gently, resting her hand on his back. “How are you doing, for a second?”

 

“I’m okay.” He promised. “I’m glad that he’s home. I don’t like waking up on my own.” He smiled shyly. “I’ve slept next to him almost every day for seven and a half years. A week is a long time without your husband.”

 

“Does he feel like your husband right now?” She questioned.

 

“Yes.” Jim said immediately. “I find it strange that there are things he can’t remember, but he’s as loving as he’s always been.”

 

“You know, I really admire you.” Charlotte chuckled. “No matter what this family throws at you, you never seem to waver. I would find it so difficult to live with the ups and downs all the time.”

 

“He’s not just ups and downs.” Jim said, a little defensive. “That’s not fair.”

 

“I didn’t mean it like that-” She said quickly.

 

“He’s my husband. I’ve never really had to deal with arguments, I get a husband who ninety percent of the time wants to spend his time with me, wants to be close to me, and that is so gratifying. I never had that when I was younger.” He said bluntly. “Think about all the times you and Dad argue, you have your ups and downs. These are easier, because it’s not to do with our relationship, it’s to do with our health, and that can be fixed far more easily. If you keep chipping bits off of your love for one another, it’s hard to get that back. At least like this we can get help from professionals, we can get medications or therapy or whatever.”

 

Something clicked in her mind at the word ‘we’. “Are you on medication?”

 

Jim hesitated for a moment and then nodded. “Because Freddie’s had such an improvement while he’s been on it, I- I thought it might be worth a shot. I started a couple of days ago. I haven’t told him yet, I don’t want him to think I was on the edge of some kind of crisis because of him, because it wasn’t like that at all. But he was right about it all.” He smiled shyly. “I don’t know if it’s a miracle product, but everything just feels a bit easier. I feel less stressed about everything, I don’t sit and wind myself up about all the possibilities like I used to. I used to just spend hours going through everything that could happen to him, to me, to us, to the kids, I’d worry about divorce costs and social services and everything like that to the point that I was in tears. Now, I feel- I feel like I can handle whatever comes, so I let it come. And it’s never as bad as I imagined it to be.”

 

She leaned over and gently kissed his forehead. “You know, I think you’re perfect for each other. I think you maybe understand each other better than everybody else in the whole world.”

 

“You didn’t even like him when I first brought him home.” Jim smiled wryly.

 

“I loved him!” She insisted. “I was just worried that he was going to be hard work, darling, and I didn’t know how well you’d take to that. Those guys before him, they always expected too much of you, and that always upset you when they turned it on its head and blamed you when they cheated on you.”

 

Jim turned to her. “You thought he’d cheat on me?”

 

“Not necessarily, darling, I was just wary. I didn’t want you to feel all this pressure to look after him and nurse him back to health if you were going to be devastated when he cheated on you or when he crumbled again.” She explained. “But I’m glad I’ve been proven wrong.”

 

“I can’t imagine ever loving anyone else, now.” He said shyly. “Because I feel as though we’ve built such an identity together, I feel like an intrinsic part of me is him. I think if we ever were apart, for whatever reason, I wouldn’t be able to love anyone else like I love him.”

 

“Do you think about losing him a lot?” She asked gently.

 

“I guess- since he told me about being so low, when he was considering suicide. I’ve been having nightmares.” He admitted, taking a long drag of his cigarette. “You know, the classics, wrists in the bath or a bottle of vodka and forty paracetamol. Sometimes I have to go and check his studio at the Royal just so I know he’s alright.” He ashed it over the balcony and sighed. “I wouldn’t want anyone else to find him before I did. Which is kind of sick, right?”

 

“You care too much, darling.” She said gently.

 

“I just know that he’s an obstinate bastard. I know that he can be all pretty smiles to me now, he’ll have me completely convinced that he’s doing wonderfully with his therapy and he’ll have the doctors around his finger, and he might still be tempted to do something.” He blew smoke out into the garden. “I made them change his prescription, which I shouldn’t have done, but he gets two weeks at a time now, instead of a month. It’s less tablets we have laying around. I’ve locked mine, too, just in case.”

 

“That’s sensible, darling, it’s practical.” Charlotte insisted.

 

“I just can’t believe I didn’t notice.” He admitted. “I’m glad he asked for help instead of going through with it, even though I didn’t know.”

 

“Maybe you not knowing is a good thing.” She suggested. “Because even though he might have had the thoughts, he wasn’t serious enough to go through with it.”

 

“I know.” Jim agreed. “The thoughts just get me sometimes. I hate the idea that he’s suffering and I’m not helping.”

 

“You have to think about your entire life together.” She said gently. “You’ve got three wonderful children, you’ve got a gorgeous house, you’ve both got incredible careers, you’ve got a stable and loving marriage. He wouldn’t have any of those things if it weren’t for you.”

 

Jim turned to her. “Well, realistically-” He started, crushing one cigarette and immediately lighting another.

 

“Don’t ‘realistically’ me.” She arched an eyebrow. “He’d be dead one way or another, wouldn’t he? You told me about that night, the night he just left him to choke to death on his own lungs. He would’ve laid there and bled out if it weren’t for you, and no one would’ve given a shit until it was too late. If he’d survived that, his boyfriend would’ve killed him a different way. And if he survived all that, it would’ve been AIDS, or he would’ve killed himself because he couldn’t handle his own head. You’ve built him back up again, you’ve given him the stability he needed to make an identity for himself. You effectively took him off the streets and got him home that first night. You know better than I do how vulnerable he was, but he had no sense of identity or self-worth, and he would’ve sold his body for the sake of a bed, I’m sure. Then imagine what he would’ve become.”

 

“You’re catastrophising.” Jim muttered.

 

“Am I?” She challenged. “Do you think Paul wouldn’t have killed him?”

 

Jim sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know.”

 

“You do know, Jim.” She said firmly. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

 

* * *

 

Jim lay on his front on the bed, watching Freddie as he wandered around the room, looking for something he could use for pajamas. He found himself tracing old lines, scars that he’d touched when they were scarlet, and when they were faded into the lines of his muscles, with his tired eyes; he could only imagine what it must feel to hurt like that.

 

“Do they hurt?” He asked, sounding almost like a child.

 

“Do what, darling?” Freddie asked mindlessly, standing up en pointe to reach something from a top shelf. “My toes?”

 

“Your back.” He stood up and gently rested a hand over the skin across Freddie’s shoulder blades. “They look like they’d still hurt.”

 

Freddie caught a glimpse of them both in the mirror, and he smiled a little. “They haven’t hurt since I was seventeen.” He said gently. “I forget they’re there.”

 

“So do I.” Jim whispered, resting his forehead on the back of Freddie’s head. “But they- they must’ve been excruciating.”

 

“Not as excruciating as when I tried to fall asleep on cardboard that night and they were still raw.” Freddie took his hand gently and squeezed it. “I’m fine, darling.”

 

“Are you?” He asked, sounding vulnerable; he wasn’t sure why he felt tears burning behind the back of his throat.

 

Freddie turned around and cupped his cheek gently. “What’s this about?” He asked, voice soft.

 

“It’s stupid.” Jim mumbled, unable to hold his gaze. 

 

“It’s not stupid.” Freddie pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Adrenaline wearing off?”

 

He nodded and let Freddie lay him back down again. “I was talking about you with Mum.” He said quietly. “And she said- she said you’d be dead if you hadn’t met me, and I almost- I feel like I’m mourning you, even when you’re here, because I can’t stand the idea of you suffering.”

 

“Oh, darling.” Freddie knelt beside him and wiped his eyes. “I’m fine, baby, honestly.”

 

“I can’t stop thinking about you hurting yourself.” He whispered guiltily. “I want to have faith in you, I want to trust you, but I’m scared. I’m scared that you’ll feel under so much pressure to be better that one day you’ll just disappear and I’ll never see you again.” A tear leaked down his cheek and he took a shaky breath. “And the idea- the idea that you could’ve died, Freddie, because we both know that one day he wouldn’t have stopped until you were dying of blood loss or internal bleeding or he’d choke you to death or he’d drug you and take it too far or- or what the fuck ever, and I might not have ever met you, and I wouldn’t have any of this, I wouldn’t have my husband or my kids or my job, or, or, or- anything.”

 

Jim had always been comforted by a physical, grounding presence; while Freddie had always liked being spoken to, Jim preferred to have somebody close. Freddie lay beside him, running his thumb back and forth across that damp cheek, letting Jim hold onto his wrist, to feel the pulse beneath it; he even let him turn over his arms so that he could see everything was how it should’ve been, clean and unblemished, unharmed. “I’m here.” He told him when he’d gotten his breath under control, when he’d grounded himself again. “And I don’t hurt. I’m not bleeding, Jim, look at me.” He coaxed his eyes open. “I don’t have any bruises on me. I don’t have any scars on my arms. I haven’t been drugged.” He promised. “All those things could’ve happened, my darling, but they didn’t. And they didn’t because you’ve always kept me safe.”

 

“Please don’t leave me.” He whispered.

 

“Why would I leave you?” Freddie asked, combing his fingers through Jim’s hair.

 

“Because you want to die.” He murmured.

 

“Do you remember what I said when I told you? Because I do.” Freddie smiled. “I said that I’d gotten help because I knew I didn’t really want to. As much as it’s the easy way to stop all the hard things, I would have to sacrifice everything. I’d have to sacrifice you and all of our children, they’d have to grow up without me, and I couldn’t do that to them, or to you. And that’s why I want to get better.”

 

“When will you be better?” He asked quietly.

 

“I don’t know. I’m not putting a time-scale on it.” Freddie said resolutely. “Because it’s not something that I’m going to succeed or fail at. It doesn’t matter if it’s not a straight line, so long as I’m going upwards. But, darling, don’t you think I’m doing better already?”

 

He considered everything he’d seen during the day;

 

_ “That was delicious, darling, thank you.” Freddie kissed his cheek and stood up from the dining table. “Is there any leftover?” _

 

_ Jim was genuinely surprised; he could remember only a handful of times in their whole life that Freddie had eaten more than he had to. “There’s another serving.” He nodded. _

 

_ “Mind if I eat it now? I know you like to take them for lunch.” Freddie hummed, picking up his bowl. _

 

_ “No, no, go for it.” He smiled. “I’d rather you enjoyed it now.” _

 

Or maybe the unconscious moments, the moments where he wasn’t performing for anyone;

 

_ He leaned into the mirror, twisting and turning to shave the little bits that he always missed on his jawline. He twisted a dial on the radio, turning up the music, and hummed along as he narrowed his eyes to try and focus them; Jim saw a delighted smile cross his face as an old, familiar song come on. _

 

Or maybe the time that he’d spent with his children;

 

_ “What are you doing, princess?” Freddie sat beside Talulah, who was working meticulously on a pair of his old pointe shoes. He’d never understood why she liked them so much - in his opinion, they all smelled terrible, they were beaten up, the satin wasn’t shiny and pretty like a new pair was, but she always turned down his offer to have a nice, clean, new pair. _

 

_ She’d covered them in little flowers this time, some gems stuck on with a glue stick and some drawn in audacious felt tip pen; he chuckled as she presented her work proudly. “When I’m a dancer, my shoes will look like this!” She told him, squealing with delight when he put it on and arched his foot to show her what it looked like on. “Daddy!” She giggled. _

 

_ “I think they’re perfect, darling!” Freddie smiled. “I think I should wear these on stage.” _

 

_ “Would you, Daddy?” She gasped. _

 

_ “You’d have to do me a nice, clean pair, princess. These ones are too soft to wear now.” He stood up and then went up en pointe, holding onto the back of the sofa when he got no support from the shank. “I think you’ll make a wonderful little designer.” _

 

_ “I’m going to be a ballerina, Daddy.” She told him off. “Just like you!” _

 

“You are.” Jim said eventually, wrapping his arms around his husband, so tight. “You are.”

 

“And what did you promise me a long time ago?” Freddie asked, grinning, knowing just what to say to put a smile on his face.

 

The smile flickered, hesitant at first but blossoming quickly into the creases around his eyes. “That we’d both take good care of you.” He repeated.

 

“And you have.” Freddie leaned up to kiss him. “You have, darling. Thank you.”


	48. Sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short but sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was walking around Covent Garden at sunset today and it gave me the inspiration for this - you're welcome!

The sunshine beamed out across their bed, painting them both in winter’s gold; Freddie shivered and curled closer to his husband, cheek to chest, arm thrown over his middle as he clutched tight. He smiled sleepily when Jim’s arm came up over his shoulder, holding him as close as he could; he pressed a kiss, warm and lazy, to the skin against his lips.

 

Jim traced his fingers through Freddie’s hair, indulging in his warmth under his fingers, the softness of his skin - it was everything he loved about Freddie, that sweetness, the softness that he seemed to radiate. “Good morning.” He murmured, voice rough.

 

Freddie yawned and pulled the blanket over their heads, grinning up at his husband. “It’s so cold.”

 

“It’s sunny outside.” Jim chuckled, dropping a kiss on Freddie’s head. 

 

“That doesn’t change the fact that it’s freezing.” Freddie smiled. “But I guess it is two weeks to Christmas.”

 

Jim pulled him closer, laughing when it made Freddie squeal. “I don’t want to get up.” He murmured, kissing his lips, sweet and slow. 

 

“Let’s stay here forever.” Freddie laughed. “Let’s get a butler to bring us tea and food.”

 

Jim ran a hand down his side, grinning. “A nanny for the children.”

 

“Our own personal chef.” Freddie kissed him again. “You can conduct from our bed.”

 

“I doubt that the bed could do a jeté. You might have to leave it for a few hours to train.” Jim fell silent for a few moments, and then broke into another smile. “God, you’re beautiful.”

 

Freddie’s cheeks pinkened and he looked away, though he was grinning, clearly pleased. “I can’t believe we’ve been together for nearly eight years and you still think I’m beautiful.”

 

“I still think you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever met.” Jim said honestly. “And sometimes I genuinely can’t believe that you’re my husband. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of you, and you’re sat eating dinner in your pajamas with Oliver on your knee, or you’re playing with Peaches, or you’re reading in the garden, and I- I have this feeling, and it’s just like awe. Sometimes I feel like it’s all a fairytale, it’s so romantic, little old me with a principal ballet dancer for a husband. It’s the kind of thing I used to think about as a kid.”

 

“You wanted to marry a ballet dancer?” Freddie asked curiously, blushing furiously with delight at his words. 

 

“Not necessarily a ballet dancer, but I never wanted to marry someone who was boring and worked a conventional job. I wanted somebody- somebody who was going to be special. Somebody different. Somebody passionate.” Jim twirled a curl around his finger.

 

“You know, I never thought I’d be married at all. I used to dream about it, but I always assumed that it would never happen to me.” Freddie admitted. “And I never really thought I’d be a dancer, so I thought if I did fall in love with someone, they’d work in an office or a shop or something. I know what you mean, though, about the fairytale.” He grinned.

 

“You feel like that too?” Jim asked softly.

 

“I’m the princess, aren’t I? It’s like a fairytale. They all lived happily ever after.” Freddie laughed. “This is like what happens after the marriage at the end of the story.”

 

“I love you.” Jim kissed him gently.

 

“I love you, too.” Freddie whispered, resting his head against Jim’s shoulder. “Can we take the kids to the park after school?”

 

“Are you feeling up to it?” He questioned.

 

“I think so. I feel a lot happier today.” Freddie smiled up at him. “I think I’m going to try without the diazepam today, the doctor said it isn’t good to take it for too long. I don’t want to withdraw when I’m coming off of it. The fluoxetine should be enough to keep me feeling level.”

 

“It’s down to you, darling.” He nodded. “You know, I went to the doctor a few days ago too.”

 

Freddie looked up quickly, his brow creasing in concern. “Are you okay?” He asked softly.

 

“I was thinking about what you said about taking your tablets. When you said that they helped you feel more able to cope.” His cheeks coloured. “And I wondered if they might help me too. I thought it was worth asking about.”

 

“What did they say?” Freddie asked, snuggling down against him and feeling the rumble of his voice through his chest. 

 

“They’re trying me on the same thing.” He said quietly.

 

“How have the first few days been?” He questioned. “Honestly?”

 

“A lot of ups and downs.” He admitted. “I felt like everything was better, and then I felt like everything was so much worse, it’s been a big see-saw.”

 

“The first few days are the hardest. It’s a bit of a placebo, feeling better, because sometimes it’s just because you feel like you should be feeling better, when the meds can drag you down a bit. But then you start feeling a lot better.” Freddie said softly.

 

“It’s been about six days. I know it takes at least a week, I’m just trying to be patient with it.” He said shyly.

 

“I hope they’ll help you too. They-they’ve brought a bit of excitement back into my life.” Freddie chuckled. “It’s like- you know you have the days where you feel like you’re living in greyscale?”

 

“Yeah.” Jim nodded.

 

“I feel like the colour’s back again. And because the colour’s back again, you start seeing all the happy things again, like sunsets and little kids with ice creams.” Freddie chuckled. “You’ve just got to wait for the colour.”

 

* * *

 

“Where are we going, Pop?” Oliver asked, swinging his hand where it was joined to Jim’s. Reuben was holding his other hand, and Talulah was holding his, as they all walked through Covent Garden; Oliver squinted in the sun, his little heart racing with excitement at the smell of caramelised nuts, hot chocolate, the sound of street performers, the sight of the flowers and bottles of perfume and the building in front of him gilded in gold. 

 

“We’re going to see Daddy.” Jim smiled at the little boy when he squealed. “I think he’ll be out on the roof because it’s lovely and sunny today.”

 

He gasped with excitement and ran ahead, looking up at the back doors of the Opera House. “In here?”

 

“You know it, darling.” Jim chuckled, hoisting a tired Reuben onto his hip and following his son as he ran up the stairs excitedly. “Olly, Olly, slow down, please.”

 

Oliver waited at the top of the stairs, almost jittering with excitement. “Daddy!” He said excitedly.

 

“I know!” Jim laughed. “But you don’t need to go getting lost, sweetheart, do you?”

 

“Hurry up!” He giggled as Jim got to the top of the stairs, and then took off running again, going over to the door for the rooftop. Jim followed him and swiped his pass to unlock the door to the outdoor gym.

 

“Daddy!” Oliver squealed, throwing his arms around his father, though he was mid-press up. 

 

“Bear!” Freddie laughed, flopping down onto his front and then rolling over, hugging his son tightly.

 

“You’re smelly.” Oliver wrinkled his nose playfully, but cuddled his father regardless. Jim sat beside them both, laughing as Talulah joined their hug, flopping down on Freddie’s chest.

 

“That’s because I’ve been exercising a lot, darling. I’m all sweaty.” Freddie sat up and chuckled. “I’ve been doing lots of push ups in the sunshine.”

 

“Why?” Talulah asked, sitting on his knee. 

 

“Why?” Freddie echoed. “Because I’m a dancer, darling, so I have to exercise a lot to keep my body nice and healthy. And because it always puts a smile on my face.” He chuckled. “It makes my brain happy.”

 

“Like when I get to play.” Oliver nodded.

 

“Exactly. Daddy does this all the time.” Jim pressed a kiss to his husband’s cheek. “I tell you what, darling, how about we go to the park before it gets dark?”

 

“Yes!” Reuben squealed, suddenly perking up. “Please!”

 

“That’s one vote.” Jim chuckled.

 

“Can we, Daddy?” Talulah asked hopefully. “All of us?”

 

“Of course we can, sweetheart.” Freddie stood up and picked her up, spinning her around. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

Freddie held Reuben close as they both went down the slide together, the little boy squealing with excitement in his father’s arms. “Daddy!” He giggled.

 

“I know!” Freddie said excitedly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

 

“Big!” Reuben giggled, looking behind them at the slide they’d been down. “Again!”

 

“Again?” Freddie laughed. “Let’s go down the slide with Olly!”

 

They were going down some of the slides designed for older children, because Reuben wanted to go down the same ones as Oliver and Talulah, and so he’d been down a lot of them on Freddie’s knee. “Daddy!” Oliver said excitedly as Freddie sat beside him.

 

“Shall we go down together?” Freddie grinned. He started a countdown, laughing as they both went down the slide at the same time; at the end of the row, Talulah squealed when Jim swept her up and cuddled her close, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. 

 

“I love you, princess.” He said, his heart bursting with love for her. “Very, very much, okay?”

 

Talulah giggled as though he was being silly, and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I love my Pop.” She told him earnestly. “Swings!”

 

“Let’s go!” He grinned, carrying her over to the swings and placing her down in one. He pushed it gently, listening to her giggles, and smiled when Freddie brought over the other two. He put Reuben in a baby swing and Oliver next to Talulah, pushing the youngest with one hand. “This was a wonderful idea.” Jim leaned over to kiss him softly.

 

“They’re so happy.” Freddie sighed happily. “Watching them, it makes me feel like I’m doing something right.”

 

“So right. Especially with Ru, you can see how much happier he is. He’s relaxed so much now.” Jim smiled.

 

“I love them.” Freddie smiled, looking over their little ones. “Do you want to adopt Ru?”

 

Jim turned to him, still pushing Oliver and Talulah mindlessly as they chatted together. “It depends on what you want, sweetheart. I wouldn’t want to put anymore stress on you.”

 

“Stop thinking about me for a second.” Freddie said, a little firmer; sometimes, Jim used his naturally caring disposition to hide his lack of self-belief and self-worth. “I want to know what you want. We’re allowed to disagree, but we need to know what we both want. That’s how we stop ourselves from arguing.”

 

“Yes, I would like to adopt Reuben. I’d like more kids, too.” He said simply. “What about you?”

 

“I want to adopt him.” Freddie nodded. “See, now we know we both agree, and we know that we’re not just doing it to make the other person feel better.”

 

“You’re so fucking logical.” Jim laughed, lowering his voice, and kissed him again. “Stop it. That’s my job.”

 

Freddie laughed and wrapped his arms around his neck quickly, kissing him again. “Reuben Hutton.” He murmured. “We need to finalise Talulah, too.”

 

Talulah looked up quickly, her face lighting up, brighter than Freddie thought he’d ever seen before. “I’m going to be a Hutton? Like you and Pop and Olly?”

 

“Yes, darling.” Jim chuckled. “Because you’re going to be ours forever and ever.”

 

“Daddy!” She jumped off the swing and threw herself at him, hugging his leg so tightly. “I’m gonna be a Hutton!” She grabbed Jim’s leg with her other arm and hugged them both as tightly as she could. 

 

Jim laughed and picked her up, squeezing her tight. “Yes, baby, you’re going to be a Hutton.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would anybody be interested in a part two to Adagio? I have some ideas...


	49. Baby Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all calms down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all seem to adore the family/kids fluff even when it doesn't matter to the plot so here you go!

“Let’s go from the ten.” Olga suggested, looking over Freddie and Mary in front of her. “I just feel like that pirouette is a little- a little lazy, Freddie, darling.”

 

“I was breathing!” Freddie laughed, but he nodded regardless.

 

“Jim, darling.” Olga nodded at him, expecting him to start playing again. When he remained silent, however, she looked over at him properly. “Jim?”

 

Jim was leaned on his palm, watching his husband intently as he stretched; he held his foot in one hand, extending far up above his head, and leaned forward to intensify the stretch. His hamstrings were bitchy at the best of times, seizing up if he danced for too long, if he didn’t warm up before the first class of the day, if he put too much force on his quads, if he did almost anything- he was forever having to stretch out them out when he was rehearsing, when he was warming up. Jim loved to watch him, performing those movements so perfectly, so easily, though it would take another person a lifetime to perfect; he could get lost in his beauty, his fluidity, the craziness of his physique, in just how much he truly loved his husband.

 

Jim thought momentarily that he didn’t dance enough with Freddie. He’d been so scared, so intensely frightened, of dancing with him on their wedding night; he’d never gone beyond simple grinding in a club before, surreptitiously feeling up the bodies of men as he went along. When Freddie had wanted to dance, he knew that meant dancing properly; Freddie was never going to accept simple swaying when he lived to be the centre of attention, when he knew all of his friends from the company would be expecting so much more.

 

They had danced together for months, evenings spent with Freddie teaching him ballroom steps; they’d both been surprised by how easily Jim had taken to it, the natural rhythm in his body. He seemed to know exactly where to hold, how to turn, possessing a fluidity that Freddie supposed came from his musicality. Sometimes he had deliberately messed up a step just to see that smile come up on Freddie’s face, to get that gentle correction, a hand on his waist or his thigh nudging Jim’s into place. More often, though, they’d put on a record, dancing together for hours, laughing and joking and kissing, loving each other.

 

And hadn’t it felt incredible when he’d had principal dancers coming over to him, surprised at a talent that they’d thought was purely his husband’s?

 

“Jim!” Olga laughed as he looked up quickly, cheeks flushing when he realised he’d been caught staring.

 

“Sorry.” He murmured apologetically. “Lost in thought.”

 

“Lost in admiration.” She grinned. “We’re going to go from the ten.”

 

“Absolutely.” He agreed, turning his music back to the right page. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

Freddie crossed his legs as he sat behind his daughter, brushing her hair out from the beautiful braids that Jim had plaited that morning, tied so diligently with red ribbons that matched her little checked school dress. Every morning, Jim would braid her hair, scrunch Oliver’s curls with a little of the serum that Freddie used religiously, and brush Reuben’s hair; every morning, Freddie would dress Oliver in smart trousers and a polo shirt, his little girl in a checked dress and cardigan, Reuben in jeans and a little checked shirt, braces if they were going anywhere fancy. Every evening, they would bathe each child in turn, soaping up hair and body with efficiency mixed with giggles; every evening, Jim would dry each child, dress them in pajamas warmed over the radiator; every evening, Freddie would sit and diligently brush out every child’s hair, getting lost in the calmness that it brought him.

 

“Your hair is very soft, darling.” Freddie complimented mindlessly. “Doesn’t your Pop do a good job?”

 

She nodded and smiled, flattered by the praise. “He does good.” She agreed, twining a strand of blonde hair around her finger. 

 

“Pop cuts my hair whenever I need it.” Freddie smiled. “He used to be a hairdresser, you know?”

 

She gasped. “Really?”

 

“Yes, princess. Before he worked with me, he used to cut lots of people’s hair. He can make it different colours, too, which I think is amazing.” Freddie chuckled.

 

Jim walked over to the sofa and held out a hand for Freddie, grinning to himself. “Come on.” He said excitedly.

 

Freddie arched a surprised eyebrow but took his hand regardless, smiling curiously. “What is it, darling?” He asked.

 

“I want to dance with you.” Jim told him, kissing him softly. “I was watching you today, and I realised that we haven’t really danced together since we got married, and then that made me sad. So I want to dance with you.”

 

Freddie settled in his arms easily, one of Jim’s hands on his waist and another on his shoulder; he felt warm, comfortable, safe in his arms. “I love you.” He said sweetly, smiling up at his lover. 

 

“I love you too.” Jim kissed the end of his nose, enjoying the sway of his husband’s hips, the way the rhythm of the music warmed him, the widening of his smile as he got into dancing. Jim was his favourite person to dance with, though he didn’t often get to indulge his passion - Jim was often too nervous, struggled to let go, struggled to ease into that headspace that Freddie found so easily. When he was like this, soft and playful, it was his favourite side to his husband.

 

“What are you doing?” Talulah giggled, laying on her front on the sofa and watching them. Freddie mused for a moment just how lucky she was, as his daughter, to be watching such shows of love and affection; she could’ve so easily been hidden behind the sofa, watching him being beaten, bloodied, watching him cry and panic and beg.

 

Instead, she got to watch him laugh, watch him dance, watch that gentle touch that Jim treated him with. She got to watch him being loved, being treasured: she got loving behaviour that she could copy for the rest of her life.

 

He loved his life.

 

Freddie grinned and twirled in Jim’s arms, laughing to himself. “We’re dancing, sweetheart.”

 

“Pop doesn’t dance.” She said, as though it were obvious. 

 

“Yes I do!” Jim chuckled, bringing Freddie close again. “Your daddy taught me to dance before we got married.”

 

She looked up in awe. “Can you dance like Daddy?”

 

“Not too much like Daddy, darling. I like to dance like this.” He smiled. “Daddy’s dancing is a lot more technical. That means he has to work much harder to be good at it.”

 

“Like my letters?” She asked innocently.

 

“Yes, baby. I have to work very hard at it, just like you have to work at your letters.” Freddie smiled.

 

“Christ, she’s so cute.” Jim murmured in his ear, and Freddie couldn’t contain his sweet little giggle.

 

“Isn’t she just?” Freddie looked over at her and smiled. “Love you, Lu.”

 

“Love you too, Daddy.” She replied, standing up and looking up the stairs. “Where’s Olly?”

 

“I think he’s with Ru, darling. I think he’s doing some reading.” Jim kissed Freddie’s forehead and then walked over to her. “How about Daddy and I read you all a story before bed?”

 

“Can Daddy do the voices?” She asked hopefully.

 

“I do do truly brilliant voices. Pop can narrate.” He agreed. “So long as I get to cuddle Pop.”

 

Talulah started to giggle. “Like before we had Ru and you were all silly and you hurt your leg so you sat on Pop’s knee.”

 

Freddie laughed at the memory and nodded. “Exactly like that, sweetheart.”

 

“Bear?” Jim called up the stairs. “Ru? Can you come down here and brush your teeth, please?”

 

Reuben came dashing down the stairs first, very nearly missing a step; Jim caught him in time and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Be gentle, baby, you’re little.” He said softly. “Olly?”

 

“Soon!” He called back, voice muffled. 

 

Freddie looked at him curiously and jogged up the stairs, peeking into their bedroom. “What are you doing, darling?”

 

Oliver was holding a book closely, one Freddie didn’t recognise, and he was murmuring little words to himself. When he spotted Freddie, he hid the book quickly, cheeks turning red. “Nothing.” He said quickly.

 

“Bear, what are you reading?” Freddie asked curiously, going over and picking up his son.

 

“Nothing.” He said again, resting his head on Freddie’s shoulder. “I’m sleepy, Daddy.”

 

“I know, sweetheart. We’re going to brush your teeth so you can go to bed.” He kissed Oliver’s temple and carefully carried him downstairs, into the bathroom where Jim and the other children were. “Here’s the little monster.”

 

“Hello, darling.” Jim kissed his forehead and gave him his toothbrush. “Let’s do your teeth, too.”

 

Freddie carefully put him down on the step and then winked at Jim. “I’m going to go and make some tea.” He told him.

 

“Okay, darling.” Jim played along. “Chamomile for me, please.”

 

Freddie left the room and immediately ran back upstairs, finding the book that his son had hidden.

 

_ Mana and the City of Stars. _

 

Freddie frowned and flicked a few pages; he was certain that he hadn’t ever seen this one before. His heart soared as he saw how it was written - it was written in Persian, in the original Arabic script. Oliver had been begging and begging for Freddie to teach him the original alphabet, ever since he’d taken to his English letters like a duck to water; Freddie had spent hours with him, brush pen in hand, watching his son diligently copy each letter.

 

They’d started with Olly’s name, then he tried to pen Farrokh using the same letters; he’d squealed with delight when Freddie had taken him in his arms and told him how wonderful he was. 

 

Freddie had never realised that his boy was trying so hard to read their language as well as English.

 

“Jim?” Freddie called, grinning foolishly. “Jim?”

 

Jim came upstairs, wiping toothpaste off his fingers and onto his pajama trousers. “What is it, love?”

 

“Look at this.” Freddie handed him the book. “Olly was trying to read it.”

 

Jim flicked through the book; he couldn’t read the script, but he could read the English translation underneath. “Is it Persian?”

 

“Yeah.” Freddie grinned. “He’s been practicing in secret.”

 

“Maybe we’ve got another language prodigy on our hands. He could rival your six languages.” Jim chuckled.

 

“Christ, I don’t remember most of them now. I can do Persian, I can do English, I can do Hindi. I could probably do Swahili at a push, but I can’t really remember French or Arabic now.” Freddie flicked through the book. “Where do you think he got it?”

 

“Your mother? It’s like a baby book, she could’ve gotten it for him.” He suggested.

 

Oliver came upstairs and peeked around the door, his heart sinking. “Am I in trouble?” He asked quietly.

 

“Trouble?” Freddie asked, kneeling down beside his son. “No, baby, not at all! I’m very proud of you.” He kissed his son’s forehead and held out his arms. Oliver immediately ran into them, snuggling into his chest, breaking out into a huge smile.

 

“Really?” He asked hopefully.

 

“Really.” Freddie promised, rubbing his back gently. “Why don’t you read a little bit to me?”

 

“It’s hard.” Oliver admitted. “I can’t read much.”

 

“That’s alright, darling. I can help with some tricky words.” Freddie smiled. “Where did you get the book?”

 

“My teacher. I told her that we speak special.” He kissed Freddie’s cheek. “And she give me this special book.”

 

Freddie kissed his forehead again and lifted him up, sitting him down in bed and then snuggling up to his son. “Read me the words that you can.”

  
  


Jim headed back downstairs and picked up a very tired Reuben, who immediately rested his head against his father. “Pop?” He whispered.

 

“Yes, sweetheart?” He asked gently. “Lu, can you run upstairs to Daddy, please?”

 

She nodded and he heard giggles as she landed herself in Oliver’s bed, cuddling up to his other side. Reuben locked his fingers in Jim’s shirt, reminding him momentarily of just how little he really was; Jim kissed the top of his head mindlessly. “Me stay?” He whispered, looking up hopefully.

 

“Stay where, sweetness?” Jim asked, climbing the stairs. 

 

Reuben pointed to the floor and put his thumb in his mouth, the surefire sign that he was worried. “You mean in this house?” Jim asked, sitting in the armchair in Reuben’s room and rocking him back and forth. 

 

“Yes.” He whispered tiredly. 

 

“Yes, darling. You get to stay here forever and ever.” Jim promised, rubbing circles on his back soothingly. “You’re our little boy, Ru, you’re part of our family. We all love you.”

 

A sleepy smile formed across his face and he let his thumb fall from his mouth, instead nuzzling his nose up against Jim’s chest. “Love you.” He murmured.

 

“I love you too, my darling.” Jim promised, carefully putting him down in his crib and laying a blanket over him. “Very, very much.”


	50. Ribbons and Elastics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His son discovers himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for disappearing - I'm currently down with a horrible chest infection (again!) and we thought for a while that it might be something more serious. Thankfully it's not, but I was wiped out for several days because of it!
> 
> This is very much ballet-themed vignettes - hopefully it's enjoyable!

“I know you’re still awake.” Jim murmured and rolled over, pressing a kiss to the back of Freddie’s neck sleepily. Freddie’s whole body relaxed as Jim’s arm wound around his waist; he felt a long breath leave him as he pressed back against his husband. “What’s on your mind?”

 

“I think I should work different hours.” Freddie rolled over so that he was facing his lover and smiled tiredly. “I’ve been thinking about it since I went into hospital.”

 

“What hours would you like to work?” Jim asked, pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

 

“Same as you. I think starting at five is getting ridiculous.” Freddie snuggled up close to him. “No one else that I know works ten hours a day as standard. Most people aren’t even in the studio until nine, so I do my warm up class and then I just spend hours in the gym that I don’t really need. I’m just going to burn myself out if I keep going.” He bit his lip shyly. “I think it’s a mental thing. It’s like I have to overcompensate with exercise because I know that I’m eating more now, but logically- that’s bullshit. I’m eating what I need, spending three hours doing squats or balance work isn’t going to change much about my performance at all.”

 

“I’d like that.” Jim smiled. “I think that would be better for your mental health.”

 

“I’ll be resting more, which I think I need more than spending hours and hours exercising.” Freddie yawned. “I need to look after myself more.”

 

Jim cuddled closer to him and wrapped his arms tightly around him, pressing a couple of kisses to the top of his head. “Most people in the company dance between four and six hours a day. You’ll still be up there with the best of them.”

 

“I’m thinking an hour and a quarter warm up class, rehearsals half ten until midday, lunch midday to one, rehearsals one until half past two, half an hour for gym or physio or whatever. What do you think?” Freddie asked shyly.

 

“That’s an average day for everyone else. Maybe it’ll help stop you from getting injured, too.” Jim suggested. “I’m glad you want to change it, darling.”

 

“I just think that I’m so tired all the time, I fall asleep as soon as I get home sometimes, I’m tired through shows, and it’s not how it should be. I think it just proves that I’m overdoing it.” Freddie murmured.

 

“You know I’ve never been a fan of your ultra-early starts. You never did that many hours before we had Olly, you worked midday to six. That’s when you were on top of your game.” He rubbed Freddie’s back slowly. “Since then, you had the hamstring tear, the broken ankle, the really bad fracture in your thigh, and they’re all repetitive injuries. You’re fighting fit, darling, but nobody’s body is designed to dance thirteen hours a day, no matter how much work you put into it.”

 

Freddie yawned and nodded. “I think it was just how I dealt with the stress of having so many new responsibilities.” He admitted. “But I’m into this routine, now, and I’m used to having the kids, and I don’t feel stressed anymore. I want to spend more time with all of you.”

 

“Then you shall, Cinderella.” Jim joked and kissed his forehead. “Now, speaking of sleep.”

 

“You’re right.” Freddie smiled. “Goodnight.”

 

* * *

 

Freddie was panting for breath, having just done three sets of thirty-two fouettes; he leaned over with his palms to his thighs and then glanced up when he heard his husband laughing. He was used to the five o’clock warm up class, a gentle affair, lulling him from sleep and into movement: the nine o’clock one was brutal on the lungs, more like a bootcamp after the barre, all about speed and determination. “Now I remember why I don’t do this class.” Freddie glanced up at Jim and gave him the finger as he kept laughing. “You bastard, I’ve got a stitch!”

 

“Welcome back, darling.” Jim said playfully, leaning over and kissing his cheek.

 

“I’m divorcing you.” Freddie grumbled and stood up straight, leaning on the piano.

 

“It’s only because you’re ridiculously competitive and you won’t let anybody outdo you on turns.” He chuckled.

 

“Too fucking right I won’t. I’ve got a reputation to keep up.” Freddie grinned and sat on the floor beside him, hidden behind the piano as he changed to a fresh pair of pointe shoes. “The shank’s gone soft. I’ll break my toes at this rate.”

 

“I’m not surprised, sweetheart.” Jim played idly as Jacqui explained the next routine. “You put an awful lot of force on them with those turns. It was wonderful to watch.”

 

Freddie blushed and glanced up at his husband through his eyelashes. “You watched me do that all the time for six years. Is it just because you haven’t seen it for a few months?”

 

“It’s because it’s insane to watch. I’ve probably watched every ballet at least twenty or thirty times, but you can still take my breath away with the same routines. Every time I see it, I see something different, or I can see how much you still love to perform them after all these years. Your enthusiasm is unrivalled, darling.” Jim smiled. “You better stand up quickly, or Jacqui will catch you sitting.”

 

Freddie stood up quickly, resting his foot on the side arm of the piano as he wound the ribbons around his ankle and tucked them back in on themselves, forever neat and meticulous. “I suppose I still get shivers when you play. I’m not immune to your talent.” Freddie smiled, quickly running back out into centre before he missed the routine entirely.

 

* * *

 

_ “What do you think of the pianist?” He asked, glancing over as he pulled on his split-soles. “I mean, are you-” _

 

_ “Of course I am.” He smirked in return, leaning back on the palm of his hands to get a proper look at the pianist. “Oh, he’s- he’s quite something, isn’t he?” _

 

_ “You reckon he’s into younger guys?” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “How old do you reckon he is?” _

 

_ “Twenty-six? Twenty-seven? You’re not that much younger than him, it’s only five or six years. You should talk to him.” He nodded. “Why don’t you try and get his number?” _

 

Jim noticed the man when he walked over and leaned on the piano, his gaze molten hot, the kind of guy that Jim got to admire aesthetically on a day to day basis; he’d been watching Freddie halfway across the room, watching his full and unashamed laugh as he talked to a few friends. He loved his husband most when he was like this, innocent and warm and open, being himself so naturally and beautifully; sometimes he found himself watching him, watching his smile, watching the point of his toes and the curve of his arm and waiting impatiently for the next time those shoes would clatter over to him again.

 

“Hi.” The pretty young man announced, holding out a hand for Jim to shake. “I’m Matty. I’ve just graduated up.”

 

Jim shook his hand and smiled, leaning back on his stool. “Jim. Is this your first day?”

 

“Yeah.” He grinned. “I know a couple of people, though, from the school. I did a couple of shows in some of the kids’ roles, so I know the building and the teachers and the whole- the whole idea pretty well. I just thought I hadn’t met you before.”

 

“No, I have a pretty eclectic schedule. If you were doing the kids’ roles, they’d be evening rehearsals, I don’t tend to play those.” Jim smiled. “I’m a conductor and violinist, too.”

 

“You must be pretty talented.” He complimented, not caring how open and obvious he was. “How long have you worked here?”

 

“I joined in seventy. I was twenty-four then.” Jim smiled. “So that’s seven years, eight next month. I joined a couple of days after my birthday. I’m practically part of the furniture by now.”

 

“Do you always play this class?” He asked curiously.

 

“Most of the time.” Jim nodded. “Unless we have split classes, in which case I tend to play either the male classes or the elite ones.” He glanced up when Olga clapped her hands. “I’ve got to listen, I’m sorry.”

 

“No problem!” He backed off, winking at his friend when he turned around.

 

* * *

 

“He wants you.” Freddie said bluntly, pouting at him as he leaned on the other end of the piano.

 

“We were having a nice conversation!” Jim laughed, watching his husband as he rolled up his shoes and swapped for trainers. “Honestly, baby, nobody’s rivalling you.”

 

“He wanted to fuck you!” Freddie whispered, rolling his eyes.

 

“You worry far too much about people wanting me, darling.” Jim said sweetly. “You know I’ve only got eyes for you.”

 

Freddie rolled his eyes. “Did you not see the look he gave you? The under-the-eyelashes, all sweet and innocent look?”

 

“Yes?” Jim replied.

 

“When do I give you that look?” Freddie asked, arching an eyebrow. “That exact look?”

 

As soon as Freddie looked at him in that way, a look of realisation came across Jim’s face. “Shit.”

 

“When do I give you that look?” Freddie repeated.

 

“When you’re about to go down on me.” He murmured.

 

“Exactly!” Freddie said triumphantly, landing himself in Jim’s lap and kissing him, full and deep, a little bit too firm to be entirely comfortable, a little more possessive than usual. He wound his arms around his lover’s neck and bit at his lower lip, not caring if he was being a little rough for public life; the indignant gasp from across the room was enough for him.

 

Jim felt Freddie’s proud smile and laughed despite himself, kissing him back sweetly and softly. He felt Freddie soften against him, his body relaxing as he worked out his frustrations against his lips; he traced his fingers back and forth across Freddie’s waist. “You’re my pretty little ballerina.” Jim let his voice verge on possessive, treading the fine line of protective; he knew that Freddie loved to know that he was wanted. “And I don’t want anybody else, not when I could have you. I want my baby.”

 

“I love you.” Freddie whispered.

 

“I love you, too. I love you so much that other people flirt with me and I don’t even notice.” Jim chuckled. “I don’t look at anybody else like I look at you.”

 

“I know you don’t.” Freddie rested his head on Jim’s shoulder. “It’s not about you. I’m not worried that you’ll cheat on me, or whatever, I’m worried that you won’t see what someone wants from you and then they’ll throw themselves at you and you’ll be in a situation that you don’t want to be in.” He said softly. 

 

“I’m okay, darling. I won’t be hurt, and I don’t want to replace you.” He kissed Freddie’s forehead and was rewarded with a beautiful, honest smile.

 

“I love you.” He repeated in a whisper.

 

* * *

 

Freddie sat cross-legged on the sofa, Jim’s head on one of his knees, a new pointe shoe on the other; he was bulk sewing on elastics and ribbons, having gotten through four pairs in one day, and watching his husband as he slept on the sofa. He smiled and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Jim’s forehead and watching how he wrinkled his nose and turned his head into Freddie’s thigh. Freddie lived for their moments of peace together, even when they were both sweaty and a little flushed; he loved to be the one to watch over his lover while he slept, to be the one to care for Jim as much as he was cared for.

 

“Daddy?” Oliver toddled into the room, long past his bedtime; he was holding his blanket tightly, all dressed up in his pajamas, and he’d even pulled his fluffy socks back on. He looked so soft and sleepy, though his little eyes were bright and inquisitive. “Daddy?” He repeated.

 

Freddie put his sewing to the side and leaned forward to pick up his son. “What’s the matter, baby?” He asked, settling him in his lap.

 

Oliver rested his head against Freddie’s chest and smiled contentedly. “Daddy, I want to be a dancer like you.” He murmured.

 

“I know, darling. You’ve told me before.” Freddie leaned back amongst the cushions and let Oliver snuggle up against him.

 

“No, no.” He frowned and leaned up to look Freddie in the face. “I want to dance, Daddy. I want a teacher.”

 

“Do you want me to find you a dance class?” Freddie asked. “You could try it out for a few weeks. But if you don’t like it, darling, you don’t have to do it. It can be very tricky.”

 

“A class!” He agreed, nodding. “Yes, yes please. I want that.”

 

“Okay.” Freddie agreed. “But it can be a little scary at first, sweetheart. You might be the only little boy in your class, because not many boys like to dance.”

 

Oliver frowned. “Why?” He asked curiously.

 

“Lots of boys think it’s too girly. Especially boys that go right up on their toes, like Daddy does.” He kissed Oliver’s forehead. “A lot of people think that you have to be gay to be a dancer. Do you know what that means?” 

 

He shook his head, playing with the bracelet on Freddie’s wrist. “Being gay is when a boy loves another boy.” Freddie explained gently.

 

“Like you and Pop?” He asked.

 

“Exactly like me and Pop, darling. But it’s not true, you can love girls and be a dancer. You have to not listen to people that say that.” He said softly.

 

Oliver put his thumb in his mouth, thinking for a few moments. “Do I have to love girls?”

 

“No, sweetheart, you don’t have to. You can love anybody in the whole wide world.” Freddie smiled. “And never, ever listen to anybody who says you can’t.”

 

“So I can be a dancer, and I can love boys?” He asked. “Just like you?”

 

“Yes, baby. But you don’t have to be just like me, you can do whatever you want. You could be an astrophysicist like your Uncle Bri.” Freddie chuckled.

 

“An a-” Oliver frowned, baffled by the word.

 

“It’s something to do with science and the stars. I don’t understand it either.” Freddie yawned and rested his cheek on Oliver’s head. “So, am I going to find you a class?”

 

“Yes.” He nodded immediately. “If you can do it, Daddy, I can too.”

 

* * *

 

“Daddy!” Oliver screeched, running out of the room with his borrowed pair of split-soles in his hand. “Daddy, Daddy, I love it!”

 

Freddie grinned and picked up his son, swinging him around excitedly. “You love it?” He repeated.

 

“I got to jump and spin and the lady- she said- she said-” He frowned in concentration, trying to remember her exact words to relay to his father. “She said I had a very good line.”

 

Freddie pressed a kiss to his forehead and squeezed him, overcome with pride. “That’s one of the best things you can have when you’re a dancer.” He grinned, setting his son on the floor and then kneeling in front of him, picking up his shoes from the rack and helping him to pull them on. “Do you want to do it again?”

 

Oliver nodded excitedly; Freddie had never seen a bigger smile on his face. “Please!” He grinned.

 

“Shall we do something exciting?” Freddie offered, taking his hand as they left the studio and walked out onto the street. “Shall we get your first pair of ballet shoes?”

 

Oliver’s expression was aghast; he squealed and he jumped up, overcome with excitement. “Can we?”

 

“Definitely.” Freddie grinned. “I’ll take you to my favourite shop in the whole wide world.”

 

Oliver skipped alongside him as they headed to Bond Street Station, though he still clamoured to sit on Freddie’s hip when they got on the tube; he found the tight space a little frightening still, no matter how many times they did the journey.

 

They ventured from Tottenham Court Road through the streets of Leicester Square, Oliver’s cheeks glowing with the delight of having stolen his Daddy for a few hours. He looked up when Freddie stopped outside a shop, and his mouth fell open when he saw what was inside.

 

“Good afternoon, Freddie!” One of the girls smiled at him, and Oliver was immediately confused why and how she knew his name. “Are you here for the usual?”

 

Freddie almost couldn’t believe he had a ‘usual’ at a shop like this, but he knew exactly what would be in the package; a dance belt, a pair of black tights, three pairs of nude split-soles, a few gel pads, two big toe protectors, three pressure protectors, a pack of second skin, two pointe cushions, ribbons, elastic, and a can of rosin spray - everything he usually ordered all in one. “I’m not, darling, actually.” He grinned. “Can you point me in the direction of the children’s shoes?”

 

“Absolutely! Is it for your little one?” She asked, looking at Oliver; she was immediately in love with the look of awe on his face.

 

“Yep.” Freddie let go of his hand and let him run out into the store to look around. “He did his first ballet class today.”

 

“Oh, he’ll end up just like his father.” She chuckled and led him over to the children’s shoes. “He’s tiny. He’ll need the shoes at the top, I imagine he’ll be the smallest size.”

 

“I’m five and a half.” Oliver said loudly, watching them both as Freddie reached for a few styles of shoe.

 

“You’re five and three months.” Freddie smiled. “You’re not quite that big yet. Take your shoes off for me, sweetheart.”

 

Oliver hauled himself onto a chair and pulled his shoes off, dropping them on the floor. Freddie kissed his forehead and sat cross-legged in front of him, chuckling to himself. “First of all, darling, what colour?” He asked, showing him white, nude, and black ones.

 

“That one!” Oliver pointed to the nude ones. “Like you.”

 

Freddie chuckled and took one shoe that was split-sole and another that was full-sole. “Put these on for me and tell me which one is more comfy.” He watched as Oliver tried to look at the bottom of both shoes, looking for the one that matched Freddie’s; he chuckled and gently put a hand over his eyes. “You need to tell me which one is more comfy.”

 

Oliver pointed each of his feet, just as he’d been told, and pointed to his left foot - the split-sole. “This one.”

 

Freddie changed the full-sole for another split-sole and then got his son to stand up. “Why don’t you show me what you did in your lesson today?”

 

Oliver held onto his hand and showed him a very shaky plié, and a very pretty little jump. “Are they nice and comfy?” Freddie asked.

 

“My toes.” He said, wriggling his feet. “My toes are pinched.”

 

“Then we’ll go up a size.” Freddie was glad he had experience of exactly how the shoes should fit; it took him many pairs of ill-fitting shoes to find the right size for him. “How about these?” He asked, putting them on for him.

 

“I like them.” He grinned. “Please, Daddy?”

 

“Of course, baby.” Freddie kissed his forehead and smiled. Oliver picked out two pairs of nude ones and a pair of bright red ones, just like Freddie’s; he also picked out a pair of black tights, a shirt, a pair of shorts.

 

_ Freddie couldn’t help but smile as he watched his little boy, glowing with excitement as he learned exactly what each and every little thing that Freddie bought was, and what it would do. It was like watching him discover himself, in a way - it was like watching himself as a child again. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the intense geographical accuracy of this chapter!
> 
> If you want a good depiction of men en pointe (Freddie's vibe in this whole fic) then have a look at @robertanthony3 on instagram - he is legitimately perfect!


	51. Insecurities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He has to work through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing about insecurities and how they're overcome so enjoy!

Freddie let his eyes flutter closed and sighed happily, snuggling into the pillow that he was almost wrapped around; he curled up small, pretty and sated and happy. He’d forgotten, in the haze of early morning starts, coffee and bus rides and shivering from the cold despite the jacket and the jumper he was wrapped up in, how good his husband could make him feel in the mornings; the sex had been lazy, sleepy, and Freddie had barely had to move as he was guided through his pleasure, one arm wrapped around his middle, lips brushing the back of his neck.

 

“I love you.” Jim whispered, his breathing still a little heavy as he curled around Freddie and draped the blankets back over them; he didn’t care if he was sweaty, if he was sticky, not when he looked so beautiful and so content.

 

“You love my ass.” Freddie joked and yawned, rolling over and snuggling against his chest.

 

“I love all of you. I love how happy you look.” Jim squeezed him playfully. “I love how beautiful you are.”

 

“Stop.” Freddie laughed, his cheeks flushing pink as he pulled the blanket up over his head. 

 

“I love your laugh.” Jim grinned. “I love your personality. I love how small you are and how well you cuddle me.” He replied, pulling the blanket over his head as well and kissing both of Freddie’s cheeks. 

 

“Jim!” Freddie put his hands over his face, unable to stop giggling. 

 

“You’re fucking adorable.” Jim grinned, petting his fingers through Freddie’s hair and feeling him slouch against him. “Darling, you can’t fall asleep now.”

 

“You’ve fucked me into a coma.” Freddie murmured, resting his face on Jim’s chest. “What time is it?”

 

“It’s-” Jim squinted at the clock. “Ten past seven.”

 

“Fuck.” Freddie groaned. “We have to have a shower before we wake the kids.”

 

“Come on then, Sleeping Beauty.” Jim sat up and slipped his hands under Freddie’s body, picking him up and holding him up against his chest. Freddie wound his arms around Jim’s neck and snuggled against him, still not wanting to stand just yet; he felt a little as though his legs wouldn’t support him.

 

“Why have you started calling me princess names?” Freddie yawned again, letting his eyes closed again. “I mean, not that I’m not loving it.”

 

“I used to call you princess all the time. You’re going to have to turn the shower on for me.” Jim stood by the shower and Freddie leaned over, pushing the button quickly and setting the temperature dial. “Of course you’re going hot.”

 

“You’re not allowed to complain. You know I get cold.” Freddie stood up on shaky legs and smiled. “I know you used to call me princess, but it was never specific princesses.”

 

“I never knew specific princesses. Talulah’s dedicated her mornings to teaching me different ones.” He laughed and stepped into the shower and held out a hand for his husband. “So now I know Ariel, Aurora, Cinderella and Belle. Sleeping Beauty’s her favourite, because she knows you dance the prince.”

 

“I love the kids so much.” Freddie leaned on him when he got into the shower and turned his face to the water, letting it rinse over him. “Will you wash my hair?”

 

“Is that even a question?” Jim grinned and grabbed the shampoo. “I haven’t done this for months.”

 

“I’ve missed it. Even though we work together, I don’t feel like I get to see you enough. Seeing you across the room isn’t the same as having you with me in my bedroom or my bathroom or my kitchen.” Freddie closed his eyes contentedly as Jim’s fingers worked their way through his hair and smiled. “I like having time to ourselves.”

 

“This is going to become my favourite time of day. You know I’ve always loved being with you.” Jim smiled, applying pressure to Freddie’s temples, exactly where he held tension.

 

“You’re a little romantic this morning.” Freddie smiled. “I’m beautiful, you love my personality, you love me, I’m adorable, you love being with me. What’s put you in such a good mood?”

 

“I haven’t gotten to wake up next to you for a very long time, my darling. Waking up to the bed being empty never makes me feel as good as having you on the pillow next to me.” Jim hummed and carefully rinsed through his hair. “So I’m enjoying getting to share my mornings with you.”

 

“You know what I enjoy?” Freddie grinned cheekily. “Not getting that fucking half four in the morning bus from Warwick Street. Spending the morning with you in bed.” He stretched out. “You definitely owe me a coffee.”

 

“Sounds like a deal.” Jim conditioned the ends of his hair and chuckled. 

 

* * *

 

“What are you drinking?” Olga asked, sitting beside Freddie and handing him a spare pack of ribbon, just as he’d asked. “I don’t think I’ve smelled that one before.”

 

“Oh, it’s masala chai. I made it with my mum’s recipe.” Freddie smiled and took a sip, before he tore off the damaged ribbon and set to sewing a new one on his shoe. “I make all the tea and keep it in the fridge, and then I just heat up the milk and add it in. Jim bought me this wonderful Fortnum and Mason Irish tea on his lunch break, and it’s so strong, I’ve been using it instead of coffee. I don’t need such a buzz when I’m getting up at sensible times in the morning.”

 

“You know, I think it’ll do you some good to be sleeping more regular hours again. More husband and baby time, I think.” She kissed his temple. “I feel like I’ve seen you relax a lot more.”

 

“I think I can feel it in my bones the most. I used to wake up in the morning and I just ached, all through my thighs and everything. It wasn’t just like midseason ache, either, though that’s what I pretended it was.” Freddie stretched out his legs. “But I feel normal again, now. Like when I used to start at twelve and dance through the afternoon.”

 

“I think you’re much healthier.” She agreed. “And as your ballet mum, I’m allowed to decide what’s best for you.”

 

Freddie chuckled and glanced over at where Jim was talking to Matty. “Do you think he’s got a thing for him?” He asked, lowering his voice. 

 

“Jim?” She asked quickly.

 

“No, no, not Jim. Christ, I’m not worried about him.” Freddie blushed as he smiled. “No, he’s smitten. You should’ve heard him this morning. I’m worried about that kid.”

 

“He probably has got a thing for him. He’s also nineteen.” Olga chuckled. “So long as Jim’s not interested, he’ll be fine. We all get rejected at that age.” She looked over Freddie quickly and then rolled her eyes. “Well, almost all of us.”

 

“You always hear about younger models, don’t you?” Freddie murmured, biting his lip.

 

“So you are worried about Jim.” She arched an eyebrow. “Freddie, you are a younger model. That kid would be cradle-snatching.”

 

“No I’m not, I’m not.” Freddie shook his head quickly. “God, I don’t know. It’s not like me to feel like this.”

 

“Has anything ever made you feel like he doesn’t love you?” She asked.

 

“No!” Freddie said immediately. “No, absolutely not. I guess it’s just self doubt.” He admitted. “The usual. I start comparing myself to people and then I feel awful.”

 

Jim glanced over and saw the slouch of Freddie’s shoulders, the little downturns at the corners of his mouth: he stood up immediately and went over to them, sitting on the other side of Freddie. “Is everything alright, baby?” He asked gently, resting a hand on his thigh.

 

Freddie instinctively rested his head on Jim’s shoulder, comforted that he always seemed to be there when he needed it most. “I love you.” He murmured, a smile breaking on his face as Jim wound an arm around his shoulders.

 

“I love you too, darling.” He whispered. “Now what’s the matter?”

 

“It’s just that kid.” He laughed a little, self-deprecating. “He’s annoyingly perfect.”

 

“Now you know what it was like when I first met you.” Jim smiled and kissed his cheek. “He asked me for my number and I said no, if that makes you feel any better.”

 

“I don’t want to be that shitty, controlling boyfriend. I don’t want to stop you from seeing people.” He said quietly.

 

“Darling, I have no interest in him in any way other than as colleagues. You’re not coming over to us and punching him in the face, are you? You’re not being shitty.” Jim promised. “Now, come on, or your feet will get cold.”

 

* * *

 

_ “Alice is coming up.” Christopher announced, sitting back in his chair. “Do you want the Hatter?” _

 

_ “Absolutely.” Freddie agreed. “I just-” _

 

_ “Excellent!” He smiled and stood up, slapping Freddie on the back. “I’ll see you in rehearsals next week.” _

 

“Jim-” Freddie ran into his studio and shut the door quickly, rolling his eyes when he saw Matty stretching on the floor by his feet. “Listen, fuck off for a second, will you?” He snapped.

 

“Freddie-” Jim started, a little reproachful.

 

“No, listen to me. I’ve got a genuine problem, and I don’t need half the company listening in on it.” He replied firmly. “He gets his cock sucked enough, thank you.”

 

Jim couldn’t help but laugh, almost choking on it, as Matty’s cheeks flushed scarlet. “Fuck, alright.” He muttered, slamming the door behind him.

 

“What’s the problem, princess? It’s clearly put you on edge.” Jim leaned forward. 

 

“Christopher wants me for Alice in three weeks.” He sat by his feet and scowled down at his own legs.

 

“Why is that a problem?” Jim asked gently.

 

“I don’t know if I can even tap dance anymore. I put the shoes on and it was just like- like I’d never put them on before. I don’t know how to dance.” He worried his lip between his teeth. 

 

“I’m sure it’s just nerves, darling.” He said soothingly. “Why don’t you speak to Olga about it?”

 

“She’ll think I’m some kind of freak. Who just forgets a talent that they’ve had since they were about seven?” Freddie asked, sounding almost scared. “I remember standing out in the market tapping and busking when I was about thirteen, but I can’t fucking remember how I did it.”

 

“Put the shoes on for me.” Jim requested.

 

Freddie pulled on his shoes and curled his toes instinctively. “They feel all solid and wrong.”

 

“That’s because you dance in little pieces of fabric usually.” Jim pointed out.

 

“Not pointe shoes. They’re solid as hell.” Freddie arched an eyebrow and stood up in the shoes, moving back and forth in them and listening to the sounds that they made. “They’re so loud.”

 

“Show me your basic steps.” Jim leaned on the arm of his chair and watched his lover. “Like if you were teaching me what to do.”

 

Freddie looked down at his toes, willing them to just move, even if it was slow, but they were stubbornly still. “I genuinely don’t know.”

 

* * *

 

“What scares you?” Harvey asked him, crossing her arms. “What are your biggest fears?”

 

Whenever she asked anybody the question, the response was usually long and delayed; not Freddie’s. “Abandonment.” He replied immediately. “And just- the progression of time, I suppose.”

 

“Why abandonment?” She questioned.

 

“Because I like my life.” He admitted. “And I- when I was a kid, you know, I was abused, I never felt loved. I was six years old and crying as I spat out my baby teeth, and nobody was mopping the blood from my chin like all the other kids when they grazed their knees. And then I was at boarding school, and all my teachers were telling me that I was wonderful, but my parents were never fucking proud of me, and then I was out on the streets, and nobody ever gave a shit. I was cold, I was fucking hungry, I was beaten by guys that were ten times bigger and ten times stronger than I was.” Freddie sighed. “And I met Jim, and he just looked after me. He cared if I was cold, he cared if I was hungry, he wanted me to get home safely. I’d never felt loved before.”

 

“And so you fear going back to that?” She asked.

 

“It’s ridiculous. I know I’d be fine, I’ve lived the majority of my life with people not giving a shit about me and I could do it again. I just- it’s really nice to come home to people every night, and it’s nice to have someone who knows what your favourite tea flavour is, and it’s nice to wake up to someone kissing your cheeks.” He whispered. “And so I’m scared that one day he’ll abandon me and take the children and then I’ll be all on my own again. They’re all I have.”

 

“What did you say about the passage of time?”

 

“I think that links into it.” Freddie bit at his thumbnail. “I’m scared of becoming some fat, middle-aged man who does nothing and drinks too much. I’m scared that I won’t be what he married one day. I’m scared that eventually he’ll stop loving me because he’ll get someone younger and fitter and prettier.” He rubbed his face agitatedly. “But it’s bollocks! And I know it’s a load of shit, and I know he’s not interested in anyone else, but it’s like I can’t stop thinking about it.”

 

“I’m not going to tell you that it’s not a legitimate fear, Freddie, because it is. But what would be the worst thing that could happen?” She asked.

 

“I find him fucking some nineteen-year-old and suddenly I’m all on my own again.” He murmured.

 

“What about the rest of your life if that happened?” She challenged.

 

“Well, I mean-” He stammered quickly. “I’d still have my job. And I could always go and stay with my sister, I suppose. But I don’t think I’d ever love anybody again.”

 

“But you wouldn’t be cold, and you wouldn’t be hungry, and you’d still have all of your friends and your sister. You wouldn’t be alone.”

 

* * *

 

Jim pressed a kiss, soft and gentle, to the top of Freddie’s head as he walked past. Freddie looked around immediately, cheeks pink, and smiled despite himself. “You’re treating me like I’m nineteen again.” He said quickly. “That’s what it is. That’s why it feels different.”

 

Jim shrugged and grinned. “Maybe I am.”

 

“Why?” Freddie asked, sitting up on the kitchen counter.

 

“Because you kind of are again. You’re kind of nineteen, and it’s fun to be in love with you. I always loved you, but it’s fun to be in love and silly and dopey again.” He wrapped an arm around his waist sweetly. “It’s fun to call you silly names and give you little kisses and buy you presents.”

 

Freddie started to grin. “How am I nineteen?”

 

“You don’t see the difference, I do. You stand and you walk like when you were younger.” Jim laughed. “Your smile, it’s softer, you’ve got a softness around your eyes, you’re a lot sweeter and less defensive. It reminds me of the Freddie I fell in love with, without the frightened bits.”

 

Freddie wound his arms around his husband and smiled. “God, I’ve been winding myself up with all these thoughts of you going off with someone else and you’ve been falling back in love with me.”

 

“You let your brain get in your way sometimes.” Jim kissed his forehead. “You have to go easy on yourself. You know that I’m not interested in anyone else.”

 

“I know, I know, completely. But you know I get frightened.” He relaxed against Jim’s chest. “It just brings up fears that I thought I’d dealt with.”

 

Jim gently swayed them side to side and smiled. “I know you get frightened.” He repeated. “And that’s why I look after you.”

 

“So well.” Freddie let his eyes flutter closed and squeezed his husband, enjoying his closeness, his warmth, his solidity. “You look after me better than anyone else. That’s why I don’t want to lose you.”

 

“And that’s why you’ll never lose me.” Jim whispered. “Never, ever. Not me, not the children, not anyone. You’re safe with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 300 pages, 7000 hits, nearly 300 comments? You guys spoil me!


	52. Repetition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short and there's a lot going on but I love ambiguity so here you go

Freddie hadn’t been in this position for years, but he could see why he had once been so drawn to return to it; he felt heavy, he felt numb, he felt mindless. He was certain that he’d been on that same bit of the hallway floor for hours now, the time creeping on, time that was for cuddles, for baths, for bedtime, the strict pace of life that he was to keep up when his husband was out half the night, baton in hand, forever having the time of his life. But he couldn’t imagine moving, not like this, not when breathing hurt and he was laying in his own blood, not even sure where it was coming from.

 

He knew his son had gently touched his arm, he knew he was trying to get his attention when he tried to shake him awake, but his mind was somewhere else.

 

He’d heard little feet trying to reach for the telephone, and failing. He’d heard little feet climbing on the shoulders of other little feet, falling, bumping heads; he’d heard the crinkle of a biscuit wrapper, a chair dragged to the sink, three bottles filled with water; he’d heard the squeak of the wardrobe door shutting again, and silence.

 

“The clock says five.” Oliver told them, trying to be strong though he felt like crying; once upon a time, he’d cared for his little siblings like this, and he thought he’d never have to do it again. “Daddy said that Pop comes home at eleven.”

 

“Six.” Talulah whispered. “I’m tired.”

 

“Sleep, darling.” Oliver tried his best to copy what his father would say to them. “I’m going to look after us.”

 

* * *

 

Jim yawned as he put his key in the door, anticipating what would come before him; these days, Freddie was usually sprawled out on the sofa, Peaches and sometimes Reuben with him, listening to a record on low or reading, sometimes even baking to pass the time. He unlocked the door, threw his keys in the dish, and looked out over the hallway-

 

“Oh my God-” He gasped and fell to his knees. “Freddie, Freddie, darling-” He cradled his cheek and watched his husband’s eyelashes flutter. The first thing he could think of was that he’d done it, he’d tricked them into thinking that he was okay and now he had destroyed himself in the house with their children home-

 

He brushed Freddie’s hair back from his face, looking over him quickly; his face was red raw, fresh bruises blooming under his eye, and there was blood around his nose and mouth. He couldn’t have hurt himself in that way.

 

He forced himself to calm down, to keep his mind steady; Freddie’s chest was still rising and falling, he was alive, he was breathing, even if he had been beaten half to death. He sat cross-legged beside him and took a breath himself, centring himself, and then leaned down to gently kiss Freddie’s forehead - he was cold, he was so cold. “Freddie.” He said, voice soft and gentle; he needed him back in the room. “Freddie, sweetheart, can you hear me?”

 

“Jim.” He whispered, lips barely moving. 

 

“I’ve got you.” He whispered. “Tell me what hurts most.”

 

Freddie groaned, resting his cheek against Jim’s warm fingers. “Back.”

 

Jim carefully pulled up his t-shirt; his back was bruised and beaten, just like the rest of him. “What happened?” He asked.

 

“Pop?” Oliver questioned, standing up at the top of the stairs.

 

“Christ.” Jim whispered. “I’m here, darling, go back into your bedroom. Daddy’s not very well.”

 

“The man.” Oliver whispered urgently, coming down the stairs. “The man hurt Daddy.”

 

“Did he hurt you?” Jim asked quickly.

 

“Ru.” Oliver bit his lip. “Me and Lulah are okay.”

 

“How did he hurt Ru?” He stood up quickly; his heart ached for Freddie, but he knew that he was psychologically stronger than their little boy, and he’d want Jim to go to Reuben.

 

“His hand.” Oliver ran back upstairs and lulled the other two out; Reuben sat down on the stairs, tear tracks still fresh on his cheeks, cradling his right hand. Jim sat in front of him and kissed his forehead, gently taking his hand to look at it. His fingers were bright red, with little scuffs, and Jim could tell immediately that they’d been stamped on; on the back of his hand was a bright red cigarette burn.

 

“Oh, baby.” Jim picked him up and cradled him when he started to cry again. “I know it hurts, sweetheart, I’m going to make it all better.” He promised. 

 

* * *

 

“I need to ask you some questions.” The consultant took Jim aside and sat him down in an office; Jim hated being apart from his family, but he wouldn’t risk not complying. “Your son is covered in injuries.”

 

“I know.” Jim replied. “We’ve only just fostered him. His father abused him badly.” Jim hugged his knees. “We’ve never hit our children.”

 

“Was your husband attacked?” He asked.

 

“Yeah.” Jim sighed. “I don’t know what the hell happened, I was at work and then I came home and my husband was just on the floor and my little boy was crying, I’ve barely been able to speak to them.”

 

He heard the click of a door and looked around quickly. “I’m fine-” Freddie brushed the hand of a concerned nurse off of his shoulder. “I’m fine, fucking hell, I’m literally fine, you’re being dramatic.”

 

“Freddie, just listen-” She started.

 

“No!” He rolled his eyes. “I’m walking, I’m talking, I know what year we’re in, it’s just bruises.”

 

Jim stood up quickly - Freddie looked like shit, he was still bloodied, bruised, defeated, and he hated the sight of him - and went over to his husband. “Freddie-” He pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Baby, listen to the doctors.”

 

“I’m fine!” He stressed, but he was shaking, and Jim could see exhaustion and fear behind his eyes. “Honestly, Jim, I need to see Ru, I want to go home, I-”

 

“Freddie.” He interrupted him. “I’m going to make the decision for you, okay? You’re going to go back down to the doctor, and you’re going to let them look after you. You’re not half as good for us if you’re broken.”

 

Freddie looked at him for a few moments, the last inch of his resolve dissolving in front of him; Jim saw the moment before he burst into tears, and the moment he broke down. “Okay, darling-” Jim wrapped his arms around him and held him close. “Freddie, sweetheart, you’re hurting, you’re scared, you need to let us all look after you.”

 

“Broken.” Freddie whispered, covering his face and letting out a sob. 

 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He said lightly, rubbing Freddie’s back. “You’re not broken, darling, I just meant physically.”

 

“It hurts.” He whimpered.

 

“I know, sweetheart.” He said. “Come on, darling, let’s go and lie down, and I’ll bring Ru to come and see you.”

 

Freddie let Jim pick him up, closing his eyes and leaning against his husband for support. “Can you-” Jim turned to the doctor. “Can you bring the kids up to us? I don’t want to leave him here.”

 

“Yeah.” He agreed, brushing off his trousers as he stood up. “I doubt he’ll stay with us if you’re not here.”

 

* * *

 

“Is everything okay?” Matty asked as Jim stepped into the studio, collecting a few papers from on top of his piano - insurance documents, other companies to pay the bill he’d foot for taking Freddie to a private clinic for the problem with his back. “You look like shit.”

 

“Thanks.” Jim muttered distractedly. Freddie hadn’t had to stay in the hospital, though they’d wanted to keep Reuben in to help manage his pain; between taking Freddie home and staying with his son, Jim had had a total of around two hours’ sleep. 

 

“Listen, if you-” He came closer and rested a hand on Jim’s shoulder. “You need anyone to talk to, I’m here.”

 

“Appreciate it.” Jim said distractedly, thumbing through the pages to find the one he was looking for. “But we’re fine, thanks.”

 

“No, no, listen, I-” He grabbed Jim’s shoulder, faltering for a moment before he leaned up to kiss him.

 

Before he could get close enough, Jim shoved him away, not even caring when he saw him stumble backwards. “What’s the fucking matter with you?” He spat. “I’ve tried being nice, and you’re not fucking getting it. I’m not into you.” He grabbed the whole stack of papers and shielded them against his chest. 

 

“Why?” He asked petulantly, looking like a wounded child.

 

“I’m married!” He replied. “I have children, I don’t need to fuck someone that could be one of my own kids.”

 

Matty pushed him against the wall and tried again, but Jim was bigger, Jim was stronger; he caught his wrist and pushed him back again. “Get fucked.” He spat, shoving past him and heading for the door.


	53. Safety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wants to crash, but love won't let him.

_ The glass was shattered, his fingers were covered in blood, he was vaguely aware that his shoes were on the other side of the room; he was shaking, he was crying, he was encompassed by the scarlet red of rage and disappointment. _

 

“Do you know why you’re back here, darling?” Anna asked him, resting a hand on his ankle. He was curled up to his pillow, he was cold, he was still trembling - he was only half-aware of the fact that he was still drawing breath, that the tears had long dried on his cheeks, that he was able to move each part of his body independently. “Freddie?”

 

“I know why.” He replied, closing his eyes again. “I told my ballet master that I wanted to kill myself.”

 

“You did. Why did you feel like that, darling?” She asked gently.

 

“I can’t do therapy.” Freddie pulled the blanket over his head and sighed. “I don’t- I don’t have the energy. Physical or emotional.”

 

“Freddie-” She said softly. “Freddie, darling, you need to cooperate.”

 

“I need to sleep.” He brought his hands up to cover his face. “I need to not think anymore. I need to be so numb that my fucking brain shuts up for a second.” He brought the pillow over his head. “Please, just let me rest.”

 

She sighed and repositioned the blanket over his shoulder. “Okay, lovie.” She agreed. “But you have to come out and talk to us eventually.”

 

* * *

 

Jim sat down in the armchair and braced his head in his hands for a moment. “Just tell me what happened, please. Be straight with me, don’t try and mollycoddle me.”

 

“We were working on his tapping.” Olga sighed. “And he was taking a bit of time to get the footing again, and he was developing quickly, but he was getting really frustrated by it and he kept trying to give up and I- I should’ve let him, really, but usually he likes to be pushed.”

 

“And then?” Jim urged.

 

“He took off his shoes and he threw them at his reflection. He overbalanced and he fell in the glass, he cut up all his hands, and then I went to look at his hands and he just told me that I shouldn’t touch them, and that I should let him bleed. And he told me that he wanted it all to end.” She bit her lip and glanced up quickly, trying to quell the tears burning behind her eyes. “And he said that he couldn’t keep anyone safe, he’d drawn everyone into something that he’d never meant to be a part of, and that you’d all be safer without him and without any connection to him.”

 

Jim bit his lip hard. “God.” He whispered. “He won’t let me visit him. He’d put down a request for no visitors and he’s- he’s never been like this before. Even when he was at his lowest, he always saw us as a reason to keep fighting, but now it’s like we’re the reason that he should kill himself.”

 

“I didn’t know how to deal with him.” She admitted. “But I knew you’d had him in triage in that clinic, and so I thought I’d phone them up, and they said I had to bring him in straight away. I was- I was worried he was going to do something.” She whispered. “He didn’t even try and fight me.”

 

“Freddie’s far too loyal.” Jim smiled wryly. “He wouldn’t hurt anyone he loves.”

 

“It was terrifying. I- I taught him, you know, when he was nineteen and he’d turn up and he’d be so covered in bruises and so stiff but he still did it all with a smile on his face. And now, I- I miss the smile.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I feel as though he’s been destroyed by the last few weeks.”

 

“He’ll get through it.” Jim said, though his voice was laced with uncertainty. “He has to, he knows he has to. I just have to let him.”

 

She wrapped him in a hug as his voice wavered, dangerously close to tears. “Are you okay?”

 

“It’s hard.” He whispered, his voice cracking. “It’s hard to hear that the person you love more than anyone else doesn’t want to keep living with you anymore. It- it makes me feel sick, the idea that I- I’d have to live my life with someone else. He thinks I’d find someone so easily, and maybe I would, but nobody would ever be like him. I couldn’t love anybody like I love him.” A tear leaked down his cheek, miserable. “And I think of him in that room, and he’s all alone, and I wonder how he’s ever supposed to feel better. It goes against everything I’ve ever known, I- I just want to look after him so I can know that he’s eating and sleeping and showering.”

 

“Maybe some time apart could do you good?” She suggested weakly, terribly unconvincing. “I mean, they always say that absence makes the heart fonder, all those things. Maybe you can be something for him to look forward to.”

 

“Yeah.” Jim latched onto the idea regardless. “Give him something to live for.”

 

“Exactly.” She agreed, kissing his forehead in the way she always did to Freddie. “He’s strong, we both know he’s fucking strong. He can deal with almost anything with a smile on his face.”

 

“He knows who hurt them, but he won’t tell me. It’s like he thinks that if I don’t know, they won’t hurt me.” He whispered. He paused for a long moment and clasped his hands behind his neck, before he looked back up at her. “I’m thinking of taking the family to Ireland for a little while. No one’s sleeping well and I think the house is bringing back too many memories right now. It’s- it’s what, a week and a half to Christmas? And I’m not feeling festive at all.”

 

“Maybe you should write him a letter?” Olga suggested. “Tell him that’s the plan and then he’s got something else to look forward to. He always loves Ireland.”

 

“We’ve never done Ireland at Christmas before.” Jim smiled a little. “My parents have come to us once or twice, but we’ve never been around the whole family before. He always says that the family makes him feel all warm.”

 

“The children would love the snow. It never snows in London.” She agreed. “Do that. I’ll authorise a bit of time off for both of you so you don’t have to rush back. I think that maybe Freddie could do with some time away from training, he’s resorting to perfectionism again. It’s never good for his mental health when it gets to that point.”

 

“I think he’s just realising that he’s burning out and that’s upsetting him.” Jim nodded. “I’ll write to him. Good idea.”

  
  


_ Hello, my love! _

 

_ I thought it was about time that we had something to look forward to - we’ve been horribly stressed at work, you’ve been through a lot recently, and you know it always makes me sad when you’re feeling down. I thought it might be a good idea to get away from London for a little while, to maybe celebrate Christmas somewhere else - I wondered if you might like to go to Ireland? _

 

_ I know we haven’t been for a long while, and usually you like to be home for Christmas, but none of us are sleeping well. I think there are a few too memories hidden there at the moment. I thought that if we go to Ireland, we might be able to spend some proper time together, give the kids their first touch of snow. You wouldn’t have to worry about dancing, I wouldn’t have to worry about music, and then we can come back to London when we’re ready to face the world again. _

 

_ In truth - I miss having my husband by my side. Our children are wonderful, but they can’t replace you. Nobody can, my darling. I want you to get better, and getting better takes time, but if you want to, we could aim to go on the twenty-third, which means you still have nine days to get the best care you can. _

 

_ Call me, or write back if you don’t want to hear my voice, or send me a visitor’s invite and I’ll come straight away. Whatever you want, sweetheart, we can make it happen. _

 

_ I love you. _

 

* * *

 

Freddie lightly touched the piece of paper in his hand and looked up at Anna. He hadn’t wanted to speak since he’d gotten there - he’d resolutely stuck to keeping his mouth shut - but something seemed to crack in his resolve; he missed them all so badly.

 

“Can I be out of here by Christmas?” He asked quietly, sitting properly upright. 

 

“It depends how much you want to cooperate with us, darling.” She said gently. “Medication and therapy, you know the drill.”

 

“When can I have a therapy session?” He asked immediately.

 

She was delighted by his sudden change of heart. “Now, if you’d like. What was in the letter?” She asked curiously.

 

“It was Jim.” He said softly. “He wants to take me to Ireland for Christmas. I haven’t been to Ireland in years.”

 

“Good memories?” She questioned.

 

“Such good memories.” A faint flicker of a smile came across his face. “It was the first time I’d ever had a family. I had a family that loved me unconditionally, and they all thought I was so sweet and so talented, and I- I felt safe. I wore Jim’s shirts and ballet tights and I kissed him in front of them and they just- they accepted me, wholeheartedly. I didn’t feel like I’d done anything wrong the whole weekend.”

 

She smiled at the sight of a new energy in him. “Have you always had such a good relationship with his parents?”

 

“Yeah.” Freddie agreed. “I was the first boyfriend of his that they actually liked.”

 

“They sound like they’d be sad if you died.” She said abruptly.

 

Freddie’s eyes popped a little; he’d been expecting a comment along those lines, but he was still surprised to hear it. “Christ.” He muttered. “Listen, that’s not the point.”

 

“Then what is the point? You need to explain it to me.” She crossed her legs.

 

“My kids were hurt because of me, right? And there’s literally no way of bending my words so that it isn’t my fault. The whole thing was my fault. And I- I’m a fucking disappointment, I can’t do shit because I’m hurt, and now my kids are being attacked because of me. I just- I fit in so many slots, but I’m not great at any of them. Jim says that there’s no one like me, but that’s probably a good thing. He could fall in love with somebody who could be a better husband and a better father, they could employ a better dancer, I’m sure they exist.”

 

“How could you be better?” She asked.

 

“If I wasn’t so fucking sick all the time.” He muttered.

 

“You’ve been with Jim for nearly eight years. It’s only now that you’re struggling with your mental health, the whole of the rest of the time you’ve had the children you’ve been a superman father. Everyone is allowed to have moments, Freddie, especially when they’re at traumatic times.” She said gently.

 

Freddie went quiet for a few minutes and picked up his pillow, hugging it close to his chest. “I feel lonely.” He admitted, resting his cheek against the fabric. “I don’t know what to do, Anna. I hate- I hate feeling like this, like I’m stuck, it drives me up the wall.”

 

“What are your options?” She asked.

 

“Stay here on my own, stay here and let them visit, or go home.” Freddie whispered. “But they’re- they’re in danger, whenever I’m with them, and they’re all so lovely.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “Sometimes I- I sit and watch them, which is ridiculous, I know. But Jim, he- he sits with them all in Oliver and Talulah’s room, and he has Reuben on his knee, and they all love him so much. They snuggle up and they tell stories and I- I just watch, because it’s like they don’t really need me. I just want them all to be happy and if he- he makes them happy, and if not having me means that they’re all safe, then that’s what they deserve.”

 

“They deserve both parents, Freddie. Jim may be good with them, but that’s because you both bounce off of each other. You take the strain off of each other.” She said gently. 

 

“I really miss them.” He murmured distractedly. “I’ve- I’ve been apart from them, for how long?”

 

“You came in three days ago.” She rested her hand on his back.

 

“Three days.” He sighed. “It feels like two minutes. I feel like I can’t really remember anything again.”

 

“Do you want Jim to visit?” She asked softly. “You don’t have to be on your own, darling.”

 

Freddie nodded, sighing softly. “I don’t want him to think I’m punishing him. I- everything’s mixed up, but I- I won’t get better without him.”

 

* * *

 

_ “Jim?” His voice was soft as he cradled the receiver to the side of his head; it was late, later than he was allowed to use the phones under normal circumstances, but he was feeling homesick and vulnerable and all he wanted was his husband.  _

 

_ “Freddie?” He repeated, brightening immediately; four days with no word from him had been so difficult, and to hear his voice relaxed him as though he’d slipped into a warm bath. “Baby, is that you?” _

 

_ “Yeah.” Freddie smiled involuntarily. “I miss you.” _

 

_ “I miss you too, sweetheart. Are you doing okay?” He asked. _

 

_ “I’m better. I- I haven’t done a lot for these past few days, I was feeling really miserable and I didn’t want to cooperate, but then I got your letter.” Freddie tucked his knees up to his chest and sat on the floor.  _

 

_ “You got it?” Jim repeated. “I thought- it just thought it might be nice, you know, something to look forward to. We can take my old room again and the kids can go in the spare room, you and I can have a bit of time to ourselves.” _

 

_ “I really want to. I want to take the kids to that waterfall you always take me to.” Freddie felt himself fill with warmth at the idea, at the idea of getting away from everyone and everything, being safe, having his family safe. “I’m sorry for being ridiculous and ending up here again.” He blurted out. _

 

_ “It’s not ridiculous at all, darling. Whatever happened, you’re allowed to react to it.” Jim smiled a little. “You just need to get better, no matter how it happens.” _

 

_ “Will you come and visit me?” He asked, his voice soft and small. “I miss you so much.” _

 

_ “Now?” He asked, already grabbing the car keys though it was late at night. “Of course.” _

 

_ “It doesn’t have to be right now, I know it’s late and you’ve got the kids, you don’t have to worry about me or anything like that-” _

 

_ “Mum’s around tonight, don’t worry about that. Three kids is a bit much for me on my own.” Jim hummed distractedly, pulling on his shoes. “I’m coming now. I’ll see you in a little while.” _

 

* * *

 

Jim’s fingers threaded through his hair as he stood there, engulfed in his arms, his scent, his warmth, his love. Freddie’s eyelashes fluttered as he let his tired eyes close, holding onto Jim as though he never wanted to let go again; his fingers were tight in his sweater, though the rest of his body was loose and gentle. 

 

“I love you.” Jim whispered, holding him tight. “I love you so much, Freddie.”

 

The smile was slow to work its way from his mind, and then it appeared on his face in a rush of love. “You’re always here.” Freddie murmured, more to himself than his lover. “Whenever I need you, you’re always here. You never say no.”

 

“Never.” Jim cupped his cheeks and tilted his head up to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I’m always here for you, no matter the time of day.”

 

Freddie let his head drop against his shoulder again, staying so close, until all he could think and feel was  _ Jim.  _ He didn’t care who saw, he didn’t care what they thought of him; for a moment, his brain was quiet. For a moment, he let himself be swept along by the wave of love he felt for his husband, let it quiet every worry, every anxiety: for a moment, in those arms, he was safe.


	54. Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Development.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Standard is now, italics is before - but you could probably work that out!

His sunglasses balanced precariously in his left hand, a sleeping Reuben held up by his right; the winter sun shone down on the wet pavements despite the cold, and Freddie was smiling. “He’s out like a baby.” He whispered, glancing at Jim. 

 

“He’s glad to have his Daddy.” Jim said sweetly. “How’s your back?”

 

“Sore. I don’t want to put him down just yet, though.” He murmured. “He’s just so peaceful. I love watching him.”

 

Jim wrapped his arms around his lover from behind and pressed a couple of kisses to the back of his neck. “You’ll need to put him in his car seat.” He murmured, voice full of warmth. “He can sleep for the journey.”

 

“I think we’ll all need to sleep for some time in the journey. Are you sure you’re okay to drive, darling? It’s an awfully long time.” He leaned up to press a kiss to his husband’s cheek. “It’s what, eight hours?”

 

“I don’t have to drive that whole time, sweetheart, we’ll be on a ferry for a good portion of it.” Jim said soothingly. “It’s only about four hours of driving. And it’s half an hour on the other side, it’s barely anything. I drive for longer than that to take us to work on show days.”

 

Freddie leaned forwards and carefully lay his little boy down in his car seat, smiling when he finally seemed to perfect his magic touch; one little hand reached out for Freddie, but he settled as soon as Freddie popped his new soft toy in his arms. He stood on his toes and hugged Jim for a moment, gentle and settled, and smiled softly before he headed back inside for the suitcases.

 

* * *

 

_ “It’s letting him win.” Freddie said resolutely, winding a thread from his sock around his finger and unwinding it, over and over again. “Because he wants me dead, doesn’t he? So if I were to end it, he’d win. He’d get exactly what he wanted. I don’t want him to win.” He bit at his thumbnail and hummed. “I didn’t let Paul win. Why should I let him win?” _

 

_ “Why should you let him win?” She agreed. “You have control, Freddie, and you have control over your own mind. You can win.” _

 

_ He looked up and smiled, feeling a little warmer. “He wants to destroy my family. If I don’t let him, I win.” He wrapped his arms around his middle and knelt up a little. “And I love my husband, and I love my kids. Why should I let him ruin all that?” _

 

_ “Exactly, darling.” She smiled. “You’re sounding like this place is doing you some good.” _

 

_ “I think sometimes it’s best if I’m apart from everything for a while. I- I stop finding joy in things when I get so stressed by everything, but when I have time to appreciate things again, the world- it becomes so much rosier.” He hugged his knees. “And I start to see the beauty in things again. When I start feeling like I miss things, that’s when it gets better.” _

 

_ “What do you miss right now?” She asked curiously. _

 

_ “What time is it?” Freddie asked, glancing over his shoulder at the clock. “Half seven. So usually, I’d have my kids in bed and we’d be doing stories. Either I lie in their bed and we do cuddles at the same time, or Jim and I sit in an armchair together while the kids are all curled up.” He smiled at the memories. “I miss our routine. I miss being up to my shoulders in bubbles and I miss Talulah trying to pile bubbles on my head when I’m not looking. I miss the way she laughs when I pretend I don’t notice.” _

 

_ She smiled. “So you’re down to missing everyday things?” _

 

_ “Absolutely. Jim and I, we’ve started having coffee together in the mornings, and I really miss that. We sit in the kitchen and we plan out our days and who’s doing what and we just get to have that time together to tell each other that we love each other and that we appreciate each other.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Or sometimes we have coffee in bed when we’re being lazy and I lie against him and he hums songs that he’s working on.” _

 

* * *

 

Jim glanced in the rear-view mirror and smiled at the sight of his little ones: Oliver was leaning against the window on the right-hand side, fast asleep; Talulah was asleep on his shoulder, hooked under his arm; Reuben slept in his car seat. He looked to his left, and Freddie was asleep in the passenger side, leaning on the palm of his left hand - his lashes were dark against his cheeks, fluttering every few moments, and his muscles were soft and relaxed. He looked so peaceful, so beautiful, and Jim couldn’t stop himself from resting a hand lightly on the inside of his thigh - one of his favourite things about his lover was his warmth, so comforting and calming, and he smiled instinctively.

 

“Are they okay?” Freddie asked through a yawn, slipping a hand down his body to lace his fingers with Jim’s. He squinted adorably in the midday sunshine, and smiled when he leaned over his shoulder to glance at the children. “They look peaceful.”

 

“They’ve been asleep since before we left London.” Jim chuckled, voice full of warmth and humour. “I didn’t mean to wake you, honey, I’m sorry.”

 

Freddie lifted their joined fingers to his cheek and rested his head against them. “I’m a light sleeper, don’t worry.” He yawned again. “I’m back to being young again.”

 

Jim chuckled and squeezed his hand. “How are you feeling?”

 

“I’m alright.” He smiled sleepily. “I’m glad we’re going to Ireland. I’m really looking forward to being there. I’m- I’m looking forward to calming down. Olga said I don’t have to take class while I’m there, either, so I can- I can just relax for a while.”

 

“I’ve got an idea.” Jim looked over at him, adoring the soft sleepiness around his eyes, his sweetness, his beauty. He adored having him closeby, having him here, knowing that he wasn’t alone- he adored that he seemed to want to be there with him. “Why don’t we go out tomorrow?”

 

Freddie arched an eyebrow. “It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow.”

 

“I know.” Jim shrugged and smiled. “But we could out.”

 

“We have children, darling. And I doubt anywhere would be open.” He smiled regardless, humouring him.

 

“You forget I was a frustrated teenager in Dublin at one point.” Jim grinned. “There’s a place downtown that does a Christmas Eve special. We can be good daddies, we can do milk and cookies and a carrot for Rudolph, which, by the way, you’re taking a bite out of, because you’re used to eating rabbit food-”

 

Freddie burst out laughing. “What’s your problem with carrots?”

 

“Nothing’s wrong with carrots, but I’m not taking a bite out of a whole one. I’ll have the mince pie.” Jim grinned.

 

“Oh, you can keep your raisins, you fucking freak.” Freddie leaned over the gear stick and gently pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Listen, I love you.”

 

“I love you too.” Jim’s cheeks pinkened and he smiled, squeezing Freddie’s hand again. “Thank you for being with us this Christmas.”

 

Freddie smiled over at him. “Thank you for not getting angry with me.” He said softly.

 

* * *

 

_ “Can I have some paper?” Freddie asked, slipping one of his socks back and forth across the tiled floor. “And a pencil?” _

 

_ “Of course, sweetheart.” Louise grabbed the paper and then faltered. “Writing pencil or drawing pencil?” _

 

_ “Drawing, please.” Freddie smiled as soon as she handed him a box of pencils of different weights. “Oh, thank you!” _

 

_ “It’s no problem.” She smiled at how happy he looked. “What do you want to draw?” _

 

_ “My youngest.” Freddie sat up at the table and crossed his legs; he knew he wasn’t allowed to take them back to his room because they were still checking his arms and legs every few hours. “I haven’t tried to draw him yet. We’ve only had him for a month.” _

 

_ “Have you drawn your others?” She asked curiously, sitting next to him. “Have you always been good at drawing?” _

 

_ Freddie began to sketch an outline, leaning his chin on his left hand. “I’ve got a portrait I drew of Olly and Lulah on the wall in our lounge. I drew it for Jim and he just fell in love with it. I drew it in black and white and then I did all the colours for him, he sat and watched me for hours and he bought a frame for it and everything.” He grabbed an eraser from near the colouring pencils and redrew the curve of his chin. “Jim showed me some of my old drawings, and I used to draw in a much more stylised way. I have a degree in graphic design.” He smiled. “But since I had that- that kind of crash, I suppose, I’ve been drawing more realistically. It takes much longer, I have to focus more, but I think I prefer how it looks.” _

 

_ “A degree in graphic design?” She asked curiously. _

 

_ “I had two degrees by the time I was nineteen.” Freddie smiled shyly. “I finished them when I finished at the Royal Ballet School. I was only there for a year and half, but I did all the work for a degree in graphic design and a degree in classical ballet and dance performance. I’ve been thinking that I might do another one.” _

 

_ “I didn’t know that you were especially academic.” She admitted. _

 

_ “I’m not.” Freddie shrugged. “I’m much more creative. But as I’ve gotten older, I realised that I might like to go into management when I retire. I think- when we’re younger, we all think we’ll be a dancer for the rest of our lives, we think we’ll be that one person that never retires, just like Margot never did. But you grow up, and you realise that the reason she didn’t retire was because she was stuck. I think it’s more graceful to retire before you’re broken by it.” _

 

_ “Tell me about management, then.” She said. _

 

_ “Every company needs a director.” Freddie shrugged. “And I’d like to make institutional changes. There are things that shouldn’t be able to happen, that do. Members of staff don’t have checks done on their backgrounds, there’s too much competition, it can make you sick. I’d put in more provisions for the mental health of dancers, because you can get stuck in a loop of restricting your food and working out until everything hurts, especially if you’re like me and you come to London without knowing anybody. It can make you really vulnerable.” He tapped the end of his pencil against his cheek. “I’d make the creche much bigger, too. Make it a proper little daycare. I’d hire nurses so you could have babies in there, once the women were ready to come back to training, because then they’d know their children were safe and they could go and cuddle them in between rehearsals. I- I’ve always wanted a baby.” He looked down, his cheeks scorching scarlet. “But I don’t know if we ever could, really. We’re just so busy all the time.” _

 

_ “But you don’t want to compromise your life?” She asked. _

 

_ “Exactly. I don’t see why I should compromise doing the career that I love and having a family at the same time. When I said I was having Oliver, everyone just assumed that I was retiring, and I hate that that’s the norm.” He took a darker shade and started to add depth to Reuben’s eyes. “We used to have Oliver running around quite a lot, because we didn’t really know how to balance it, and then we worked it out when he went into nursery. That’s why I used to work such ridiculous hours, because I wanted to be there to collect him. No one ever told me I didn’t have to destroy myself for the sake of having children, because nobody I know has ever managed to balance it either.” _

 

_ Louise perked up. “You used to?” _

 

_ “I changed it.” He shivered and tucked his knees up to his chest, bumps rising on his arms from the cold. “I start at nine, now. Before I changed, I was starting to get these awful bruises all up my spine, on my knees and my shoulders, and it was all because I was pushing it too hard. I wasn’t paying attention to what was happening in my body.” He yawned a little. “I was exhausted. I was doing sit-ups until my skin was raw, and God knows I wasn’t eating enough in those mornings. I fainted a couple of times in the gym, but no one was ever around to see because most people don’t start until nine.” _

 

_ “So what changed?” _

 

_ Freddie paused for a moment. “My little boy wants to be a ballet dancer.” He smiled and shuffled through the papers he’d been carrying, showing her a drawing of Oliver. “And if I teach him that the way to be successful is to make yourself bleed and faint, that he should cut meals and punish himself by running five miles for a fucking biscuit, I could never forgive myself. Because it is an incredible career, but it’s only incredible if it doesn’t kill you in the process.” _

 

_ “You’ve been struggling a lot, haven’t you? Have you mentioned it to Jim?” She asked gently. _

 

_ “No.” He admitted. “I should’ve, but I didn’t want to seem ridiculous. Telling your husband that you’re relapsing is- it’s fucking embarrassing. It’s like saying that you’re not strong enough.” He sighed. “Especially with the kids. He praises me all the time, you know, like I’m some kind of superman. I didn’t want to break that illusion. I wanted him to believe that I really was, even if I was so hungry I was shaking.” _

 

_ She rubbed his back lightly, glad he seemed to be opening up to her. “What happened the other night, darling?” She asked, reminded when he winced at the contact from her hand. “What did spinal say?” _

 

_ “It’s just contusions. It’s just nasty because it’s right down at the spinal cord.” He rubbed the pads of his fingers over a bruise on his arm and took a deep breath. “They said I’m lucky. If I didn’t have half the muscle on my back then he would’ve broken my spine, and I might not have walked again.” _

 

_ “What happened?” She asked again, recognising that he was avoiding the question. _

 

_ “I-” He sighed and looked away from her, back down at the paper. “I went to put flowers on my ex-boyfriend’s grave.” He said quietly. “I’m still legally his next of kin, so they sent me all the details, and I found out he was buried in London. And I-” He bit his lip as his voice wavered. “I still feel like I killed him.” He whispered, voice broken. _

 

_ “Why do you feel like that, darling?” She asked, but Freddie wasn’t listening.  _

 

_ “He never told me he had family. I thought he didn’t have anybody, he always said I was the most important person in the world to him. I thought nobody would even give a fuck if he died and I- I used to think that about me, that if I died they’d just throw me at the back of a cemetery and no one would ever go and visit me because I wouldn’t mean anything to them. And the idea that no one cared always- it always makes me cry.” He lifted the heels of his hands to his eyes, rubbing them hard, and the tears ran down his wrists. “But his brother was there. And he- he asked who I was, and when I told him, he told me I didn’t deserve to be there. He told me that I should be the one who was dead, because it’s all my fault that he’s dead in the first place. If I’d- if I’d kept my fucking mouth shut, he would never have been to prison, he could still have his kids and he’d be happy, but I killed him.” He bit his thumbnail hard. “And I- I told him he was right, and I said I was sorry, and I left the flowers and I went again, but he must have followed me. And I picked the kids up from nursery and we went home, and I’d settled them on the sofa with milk and biscuits, and he knocked on the door and I opened it and he- he said that he’d come to finish the job. I know he hit me with something, I know I hit the floor and he tried to choke me, and I know he attacked the kids when they came to find out what all the noise was about, but it was like- I thought I was dead, you know? I thought he’d killed me and I thought I was dying, and I didn’t fight him. I could’ve, but I- I thought that maybe this was the time. I feel like half my life I’ve had people trying to kill me, and I thought I’d just let them.” _

 

_ He heaved in a breath and looked down at his hands, at how badly they were shaking. “I just wish I’d kept my mouth shut.” _

 

_ “Why should you?” She challenged him. “He decided to do those things, Freddie. He decided to abuse you. And if you won’t do it for yourself, think about what he’s done to other people. He’s raped at least three other people, he’s sexually assaulted a child, he’s physically assaulted two children. If you stay silent, you’re saying that’s okay, and we both know that you don’t think it’s okay at all. Why does he deserve to have a good life if that life is at the expense of so many other people?” _

 

_ “It’s like he’s two people.” Freddie put his pencil down. “Because he- he’s a fucking monster, and I know he is, but he’s also the first proper boyfriend I ever had. And he- he could be so gentle with me. He treated me like I was the most beautiful boy he’d ever met, and sometimes that- it drowns everything else out. He’d throw me across the room, but I always remember the times that he kissed me awake instead. I loved him.” He sighed. “I would’ve done anything for him.” _

 

_ “I won’t often tell you not to think things, Freddie, but never think that everything would be better if you’d stayed quiet. He was- he was a monster, you’re right. You deserved better than him, and he had no right to abuse you like that. He had no right to abuse anybody, and you were so fucking brave to speak out about it. If you’d stayed quiet, he would still be hurting people, hurting children, hurting you. You showed the most love to everybody by honouring yourself and your worth and speaking out.” _

 

* * *

 

“Freddie!” Charlotte smiled, grasping his shoulders and kissing both of his cheeks. “Oh, darling, you’re looking-”

 

She pulled back, holding him at arm’s length, and she took a moment to admire him. She’d only seen snapshots of him while she’d been in London, and he’d looked sick, he’d looked downtrodden, cold and small and vulnerable. Beneath the bruises, beneath the journeyed sleepiness under his eyes, he looked so much better; he held his head up higher, his cheeks were filled with more colour, his eyes were deep with colour and life and radiance.

 

Radiant - that was how she’d describe him. He glittered with emotion, with feeling, everything he’d been robbed of when he’d been assaulted: he seemed more calm, more alive, switched on and attentive and beautiful.

 

She’d always thought her son’s husband was beautiful, but he seemed it more now than ever. 

 

“Beautiful.” She finished and squeezed his shoulder. “You look happy.”

 

“It’s Christmas and I don’t have to go to work.” Freddie smiled, full of warmth, and picked Oliver up when he started to complain about his legs hurting. “I’ve got a lot to be happy about.”

 

“It’s my first Christmas with Daddy!” Oliver said excitedly, snuggling against Freddie. “And Daddy says we can have biscuits and milk and we have to put out a carrot for Rudolph and- and-” He frowned. “Daddy, what’s Santa’s juice?”

 

Freddie glanced over at Jim and grinned. “Whiskey, baby. We’re going to leave Santa some whiskey and a mince pie.”

 

“You’re going to spoil Santa!” Charlotte enthused, kissing his head through his curls. “I think if you leave that many treats for Santa, he might leave you lots and lots of presents.”

 

Talulah gasped and looked up at Jim. “Is that right?” She asked. 

 

Jim picked her up, balancing her on one hip whilst holding Reuben with his other arm. “Yes, baby. It’s a fact.” He pecked the top of her head and readjusted Reuben in his arms when he started to slip, nearly over-balancing. “Let’s see how long I can keep this up.”

 

“Come inside, come inside, it’s freezing out here. I’ll grab the bags for you.” She insisted. Freddie grabbed his suitcase and held Oliver with his other hand, grunting a little as he climbed the stairs to the back door.

 

“Everything alright, Fred?” Simon asked as Freddie stepped through the door, smiling instinctively at the sight of the little boy in his arms. 

 

“Yeah.” He promised, smiling tiredly. “Daddy’s got to put you down, sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

 

Oliver nodded and let Freddie put him down on the kitchen table. “What’s the problem, son?” Simon asked, patting him on the back in an attempt to be comforting. 

 

“Just-” Freddie winced a little. “Nursing a spinal injury. Still quite sore.”

 

“Honestly, what are you like?” He asked affectionately. “You work too hard.”

 

* * *

 

_ “We’ve just had a mother and baby come onto the unit.” Anna smiled as Freddie looked up from his book immediately. “But as you know, that’s not our specialism, and we don’t have a nursery for the little one. I was wondering - and you absolutely don’t have to do this, I just remembered what you said to Louise - if you’d maybe like to spend some time looking after her? You can use it like a trial for looking after your own baby.” _

 

_ Freddie gasped excitedly. “And she’s okay with that?” He asked. “Because I don’t want to separate them.” _

 

_ “She really wants some help. She’s struggling with sleeping, and having the little one obviously isn’t helpful.” She explained. _

 

_ Freddie stood up and pulled a sweater over his t-shirt. “Can I meet them?” _

 

_ “Absolutely. She’s in room two.” She held the curtain open for him so that he could go through. He knocked softly, and was taken aback immediately - he’d expected a woman his age, late twenties, maybe even into her thirties. This girl, though, she couldn’t have been older than fifteen, sixteen. _

 

_ “Hello.” He said shyly, unsure whether to address her as a child or an adult. “I’m Freddie.” _

 

_ “Freddie.” She echoed and smiled; beneath her smile was pain that Freddie had only ever seen in the mirror before. “Hi. I’m May.” _

 

_ He sat down at the foot of her bed and looked into her arms, at the tiny newborn there. “Who’s this?” He asked gently, trying to make conversation. _

 

_ “I don’t know. She doesn’t have a name.” She handed Freddie the baby. “I- I’ve been having problems with her. That’s why I’m here.” _

 

_ The baby whimpered and Freddie cradled her in his arms, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. “Hello, darling.” He said softly, cupping the back of her head as she rested against his chest. “She’s sweet, isn’t she?” _

 

_ “Everyone says so.” She hugged her knees. “All I see is him.” _

 

_ Freddie frowned and bounced her a little. “Him?” He prompted her.  _

 

_ “I was- I was attacked. By my boyfriend.” She told him. “I thought I’d just get on with it, whatever, it’s just a baby, but it’s like- I can’t look after her. I’m supposed to be close to her, I’m supposed to feel this- this wave of love, whatever, I’m supposed to want to look after her, but I don’t. I don’t even like her.” _

 

_ The baby started to cry and she crammed her hands over her ears. “I can’t stand the sound of her!” She said, getting upset.  _

 

_ Freddie stood up and patted the baby on the back, bouncing her gently, keeping his rhythm soft and steady. She let out a few more weak cries and then settled, little fingers grasping a hold of his sweatshirt. May looked up, looking relieved, and slowly lowered her hands. “Have you got a lot of kids?” She asked shyly. _

 

_ “Three.” Freddie smiled, resting his cheek on the baby’s head. “None of them were ever this little, though. I’m gay, so I adopted.” He explained when he saw the look of confusion on her face. “I got my eldest when he was four, my little girl when she was three, and my youngest when he was two.” _

 

_ “Why have you never had a baby?” She asked, watching the way he lay the baby against his chest as he sat in the armchair beside her.  _

 

_ “Luck of the draw. Babies go first.” He shrugged. “But it’s easier to continue your everyday life with older kids. And I fell in love with my little boy when he started talking to me in sign language.” _

 

_ She almost felt like smiling. “Do you want any more?” _

 

_ “I’ve always wanted a baby.” Freddie murmured. “Maybe I’ll have a fourth. I don’t know, I never thought I’d have kids at all. Fate just seems to keep throwing more children at me.” _

 

_ “Can I..?” She leaned forward and took the baby from him again, holding her up and looking at her curiously. “What would you call a little girl?” _

 

_ “Me?” Freddie was a little taken aback at the question. “I’ve always loved the name Luna. Luna and Lulah for my girls.” He chuckled. _

 

_ “Luna.” She squinted at the baby. “She’s called Luna.” _


	55. Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's so, so glad.

“When I come in, you all have to have your pajamas on.” Jim grinned at Freddie as they both stood outside the bedroom door. “And your socks. Santa wants you to have warm toes.”

 

Freddie snorted with laughter and crammed a hand over his mouth, before leaning up to kiss his husband sweetly. “They’re so excited.” He whispered. “Listen to them.”

 

They pressed their ears to the door and listened as Oliver helped Reuben with his socks - his little fingers were still sore, and he often fumbled when he tried his best to be a big boy and dress himself. “Give me your toes!” Oliver giggled, taking one of Reuben’s feet and helping him into his socks. “I love you.”

 

Reuben looked up and he smiled, hugging his brother tightly. “Love you.” He murmured. 

 

“We’re coming in!” Freddie called, opening the door slowly. He was presented with three half-dressed children: Talulah’s pajama shirt was on back to front, Oliver’s was buttoned wrong, and Reuben was in a t-shirt of Talulah’s with a princess on the front. “Oh, look at you!”

 

“You’ve done so well.” Jim praised and went and knelt in front of their children. “Let Pop re-button your shirt, darling, you’ve done brilliantly but we’ve got to look nice and smart for Santa.”

 

Freddie helped Talulah out of her top and turned it around for her, tickling her tummy when she put her arms through the holes for him. “How’s my princess?” He asked softly. 

 

She looped her arms around his neck sleepily and smiled. “Happy.” She told him. “When does Santa come?”

 

“When you’re fast asleep.” He told her, hugging her close and kissing the top of her head. “When you hear the bells, that’s when we’ve all got to go to bed. And then he comes down the chimney and leaves you loads of presents.”

 

“Does Santa know we’re here?” Oliver asked, sitting down and crossing his legs. “He won’t leave the presents at home?”

 

“No, sweetheart, he won’t leave them there.” Jim said soothingly. “Santa’s magic. He knows exactly where you are, he wouldn’t want to leave them for the wrong person.”

 

He lay back on the bed and Oliver settled against him, smiling up at his father. “Is Daddy my present?”

 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Freddie lay beside them, Talulah against him, and smiled. “I’m not a present, darling. I’m your Daddy, I’ll always be here, even if I’m poorly sometimes. You know you’ve always got both of us.”

 

“I don’t like it when you’re poorly.” He murmured, rolling over to rest his cheek against Freddie’s chest. “I don’t like it when you’re not home with me and Pop and Lulah and Ru.”

 

“I know. I don’t like it either, darling, but the doctors are very good at making me better. If I didn’t go to the doctor, then I’d be really poorly at home, and that wouldn’t be good either.” He kissed Oliver’s forehead. “But they’re working very hard to make me better forever and ever, so that I hopefully don’t have to go and spend the night in hospital again.”

 

“Never again?” Oliver asked hopefully.

 

“If I’m good and I take all my medicines.” Freddie smiled. “Which I will. I’m going to be very, very good. And then we get to be together forever.” He kissed the end of Oliver’s nose and smiled to himself. 

 

Oliver yawned and snuggled against Freddie. “We have to do cookies, Daddy.” Talulah told him, sitting up and smiling. 

 

“We do!” Freddie picked her up and stood up. “Come on, kids, run down to the kitchen. I’ll be there in a second.” He smiled and put her down on the floor. 

 

“Can you-” Freddie lowered his voice and held Jim’s shoulder. “I put bells in my bag. Can you go up onto the roof and shake them for me in a few moments?” He whispered. “It’s- it’s like magic. Sleigh bells.”

 

Jim smiled and hugged him close. “You’re such a good father.” He kissed his forehead lightly. “Of course I can. You do Santa’s treats and a story, alright, I’ll shake them in a few minutes.”

  
  


_Oliver’s little eyes came alive when Freddie’s voice fell into a soft lull and he heard the soft twinkle of bells in the night sky. “Daddy!” He gasped. “I hear them!”_

 

_They all fell quiet and listened to the ringing of bells. Oliver’s heart was alive with excitement that this year, Santa would find him like he had all the other children; Talulah’s heart was alive with contentment, knowing this year, she’d have a safe bed to sleep in; Reuben’s heart was alive with love, knowing that this year, he’d have a Christmas with no bruises; Freddie’s heart was alive with adoration, knowing that this year, Jim was bringing Christmas alive for all of them._

 

_“Time to sleep, then, baby.” Freddie moved quickly, efficiently, limbs heavy with love for his children as he lay them down, got them comfortable, propped up with pillows and blankets and soft toys. “I’m excited for our first Christmas together.” He told Oliver, kissing his forehead. “Happy Christmas, darling.”_

 

_“Happy Christmas, Daddy.” He whispered, kissing Freddie’s cheek._

 

_Next, he moved to Talulah, tucking her in safe and warm. “Sleep tight, princess.” He whispered._

 

_“Goodnight, Daddy.” She whispered sweetly, kissing him quickly._

 

_He got Reuben settled in his crib, as much as the little boy didn’t want to let go, and peppered kisses over his cheeks. “Night night, little one.” He whispered._

 

_“Nana.” Reuben smiled._

 

* * *

 

Jim couldn’t remember much of their night - he could remember them doing shots; Freddie’s deadpan _fuck off, I’m married_ when somebody began to hit on him; he could remember letting his hands wander again, wanting to smother him in love; he could half remember sucking him off in the club bathroom, his heart thrumming with excitement because _it wasn’t a fucking gay club, what the fuck, this was so fucking risky, they weren’t even in a fucking cubicle;_ he was almost certain he could remember spitting it out onto someone’s shoe, he was that fucking drunk, and nearly being punched in the face for it.

 

More than anything, he could remember falling over as soon as he got through the kitchen door, Freddie’s screech of laughter as he fell after him, their legs tangled; he remembered putting a hand over his mouth and feeling the hot breath against his hand as Freddie laughed into his palm.

 

They woke up on the kitchen floor when Finn nudged them with his socked foot. “Unconventional place to sleep. Good morning.”

 

Freddie groaned and buried his face in Jim’s chest, unbelievably hungover; he wasn’t sure he could move without falling over again. “Happy Christmas.” He muttered, and Jim laughed tiredly.

 

“Where the fuck are we?” He asked, squinting up into the kitchen light. “Are we on the floor?”

 

“Kitchen floor.” Finn chuckled. “You’re lucky I found you before your children did.”

 

“Shit!” Freddie sat up quickly. “Fuck, we’ve got to get ready for Christmas.”

 

Jim groaned and pulled him back down again. “One minute.”

 

Freddie couldn’t help the demure smile that crossed his cheeks and he snuggled back down against Jim, not even caring now he’d realised how cold and hard the floor was. “Happy Christmas.” He murmured sweetly.

 

Jim couldn’t help but smile as he pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Happy Christmas, baby.” He whispered, yawning as he hauled himself up to sitting. He stood up and picked up Freddie, sweet and easy as always, and Freddie squeaked as he threw his arms around Jim’s neck to steady himself. “Let’s go and get cleaned up.”

 

“I think you need a shower.” Freddie pressed a lazy kiss to his neck as he carried him upstairs and into their room. “You smell like sex.”

 

“That’s because I sucked you off.” Jim chuckled, bumping the door open with his hip and carrying them straight into the bathroom.

 

“Did you?” Freddie rubbed his forehead in thought. “Damn, you sucked me off and I don’t even remember it.”

 

“It’s probably a good thing. I think it was the worst blowjob I’ve ever given anyone.” Jim chuckled and grabbed their toiletry bags, grabbing the things they needed for a shower after he’d sat Freddie on the bathroom counter. 

 

Freddie pouted. “I could’ve teased you about that for weeks.”

 

“Thanks!” Jim laughed and turned on the shower. “You definitely fucked me, as well. I’m sore, you were fucking rough.”

 

Freddie’s smile was secretly pleased and he let his eyes rake down Jim’s body appreciatively. “I do have a good cock.” He nodded.

 

Jim helped Freddie undress and pressed a few soft kisses to his neck, to his collarbones, and then smiled. “That’s all you’re getting.”

 

“Tease.” Freddie kissed him softly, not trying to take it any further; he wouldn’t risk it with his parents next door, his siblings down the hall, his children across the way. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too.” Jim smiled and shucked his trousers and shirt off quickly, before he helped Freddie into the shower and stepped in beside him.

 

* * *

 

Reuben was still dozing when Freddie picked him up from his crib and cradled him close; his Daddy smelled of peppermint and coffee and his hands were warm and so gentle. He smiled when soft lips pressed against his forehead and Freddie bounced him again as though he were a baby, standing by the window with him. “Good morning, sweetheart.” He murmured, rocking him gently. “It’s Christmas!” He whispered excitedly.

 

One blue eye opened, and another followed a moment afterwards, a little reluctant to be lulled out of the warmth of his father’s arms. Freddie smiled down at him and kissed the very tip of his nose, making him giggle and scrunch it in return. His heart nearly burst with love for his son - he was just so little, so full of love, so playful and adorable and sweet - and he couldn’t stop himself from kissing his forehead once more before he headed for the door. 

 

“Daddy!” Oliver called as Freddie walked into the lounge; the little boy lunged for his leg and hugged tight. “Daddy, Daddy, look at all the presents Santa left!”

 

“I know!” Freddie smiled and knelt down on the floor, carefully sitting Reuben beside him, and then he hugged Oliver properly. “I told you the whiskey would work, didn’t I?” He smiled.

 

“Can we open them?” Talulah asked from her place, comfortably sprawled in Jim’s lap. 

 

“Shouldn’t we do breakfast first?” Charlotte asked softly. “I mean, Simon hasn’t started it yet, but-”

 

“No!” Freddie said adamantly, cheeks immediately flushing when he realised he’d sounded rude. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, but I think- I don’t think we should make them wait. They’ve been looking forward to this for weeks.”

 

“They’re your children. It’s your decision.” She smiled at his eagerness, at how much he loved and cared for them. 

 

“Let’s do it now.” Jim smiled at how understanding she was being. “Oliver, why don’t you hand out the presents?”

 

Oliver grinned excitedly and started to hand out each individual gift, fastidiously reading every name label to check he was getting the right person. He frowned when he read the label on the biggest one; it was addressed to all three of them. “Who opens this one?” He asked.

 

“Why don’t you decide between you?” Freddie suggested, sitting up beside Jim.

 

“Ru.” Olly said immediately. “Because he’s little and he hasn’t had Christmas before.”

 

Freddie beamed at him. “Come here, darling.” He said gently, holding out a hand for Oliver. Once he’d climbed into his lap, Freddie pressed the biggest kiss to his head and smiled. “I’m so proud of you, Olly. You’re so lovely.”

 

Oliver’s cheeks coloured and he cuddled into Freddie, presents forgotten: to him, just having a family this Christmas, not spending it hungry and hurting and sad, was present enough. He was so thankful to have his Daddy here, to be able to cuddle him and to love him, and to have somebody who would love him and cuddle him in return. “I love you.” He whispered.

 

“I love you too, sweetheart.” Freddie gave him a squeeze and smiled. “Are you going to open your presents from Santa or not?” He teased fondly.

 

“I am!” Talulah jumped into her pile of presents and giggled. “Do you know what they are, Pop?”

 

“No, sweetheart.” He winked at Freddie. “That’s Santa’s magic. He knows exactly what you want without having to ask me.”

 

She tore into her first parcel, a soft, small package, and then picked up the item inside. “What’s this, Pop?”

 

“Why don’t you open this present too?” Freddie nudged one towards her with his foot. “I spoke to Santa about them, he says that they go well together.”

 

She tore into it, picking up a pair of satin split-soles, and then gasped. “Daddy!” She squealed.

 

“You wanted to do ballet like Olly, didn’t you, princess?” He smiled. “So I told Santa you might like some special things to take to your first class.”

 

She jumped up on the sofa and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him on the cheek. “I can do it too!” She squealed.

 

“Of course you can.” Freddie kissed her temple, letting Oliver move so that he didn’t accidentally get smacked in the face by her excited hands. 

 

Reuben held one of his presents in his hands, excitedly shaking it and crinkling the paper between his fingers, but Jim could tell that he didn’t quite know what to do with it. He sat on the floor and pulled his son into his lap, pressing a kiss to the top of his head and helping him to tear open the paper. Reuben squealed and grabbed the blanket - a special soother blanket, soft and fleecy, baby blue with a rabbit’s head - and hugged it close to his chest, smoothing the soft blanket against his cheek. “Pop!” He squeaked.

 

“I know!” Jim smiled and hugged him close. “It’s special, for you!”

 

His cheeks were rosy with delight and he cuddled up to his rabbit. “Babbit.” He murmured, giggling happily.

 

“Ru is very cute.” Oliver whispered, and Freddie couldn’t help his smile.

 

“That’s because he’s little. All little children are cute.” Freddie pinched his cheek playfully. “Including you.”

 

Oliver giggled and grabbed one of his own presents. He prized it open and gasped when he saw a set of art materials; a set of watercolours, a set of colouring pens, a set of poster paints, a set of pencils. “There’s so many!” He whispered, aghast. 

 

“Santa thought you should have some special pencils for all your colouring. I suggested that maybe, you might like some other things too. You’re always drawing.” Freddie kissed the top of his head. “Do you like them?”

 

“Yes!” He squealed. “Pop, Pop, look!”

 

Jim leaned over to look, as though he hadn’t been with Freddie in an art shop in the back streets of Leicester Square buying them for him. “They’re amazing, baby!” He enthused.

 

“I’m going to paint Daddy.” Oliver smiled up at Freddie. “And I’ll paint you too, Pop!”

 

“You can paint whatever you like to, sweetheart. Just because I draw all of you doesn’t mean you have to as well.” Freddie chuckled.

 

“I want to!” He told him, bouncing on his knee. “I said I want to be just like you, Daddy!”

 

* * *

 

“Boys?” Charlotte called, holding her hand over the receiver. It was just after midday, and they were all snuggled around the fire, sated with a heavy breakfast: Freddie was curled up under Jim’s arm, Reuben in his lap, and Oliver and Talulah were drawing with his brand new pencils that he’d insisted she had to share. “Call for you.”

 

“Call for us?” Freddie checked, yawning. “Who even has the number for here?”

 

“I’ll get it.” Jim kissed his cheek and stood up. “Did they say who it was?” She asked.

 

“She did, but I can’t remember.” She chuckled. “A woman, if that helps.”

 

Jim took the receiver. “Hello? This is Jim.”

 

“Jim!” Charlotte said happily. “It’s Charlotte, from the agency.”

 

“Charlotte!” He smiled. “Happy Christmas, darling.”

 

“Happy Christmas.” She sounded so excited, and Jim was immediately curious about her reason for calling. 

 

“Why are you phoning? It’s Christmas day, you should been relaxing.” Jim chastised her playfully. “You’re not working, are you?”

 

“Only two hours. I’m exclusively only allowed to give good news today.” She chuckled. “And I’ve got two pieces for you.”

 

“Two?” He sat in the armchair by the phone. “Go ahead, then.”

 

“We got Reuben’s birth certificate through yesterday from the hospital he was born in.” She smiled. “And I’ve got to tell you, this will make a lot of sense for why he’s not talking too much yet.”

 

“Why, is the age wrong?” He asked curiously.

 

“Your little boy’s only eighteen months. Our estimates were totally out.” She couldn’t keep the smile out of her voice.

 

“Eighteen months.” Jim repeated. “That explains why Freddie’s been putting him in twelve to eighteen-month clothes. He bought him a two-year-old’s babygrow and his little feet didn’t even reach the bottom of it, he had to roll all the sleeves up for him.”

 

She hummed out a laugh. “I assumed you wouldn’t have any problems keeping him, even though he’s a baby.”

 

“No, no, of course not. The nursery we send him to takes newborns, they won’t have a problem with it.” He smiled. “What was the other thing?”

 

“A young girl came into the agency a couple of days ago. She’s got a three-week-old daughter. And she asked me if I knew a Freddie Hutton, and if he was interested in taking her. She said she’d met him before, and that she’d seen him with her daughter, and that she loved how he treated her. She said she’d know she was safe if she was with him.” She explained.

 

Jim’s heart sped up. “That must be the girl he met in hospital.”

 

“She has recently been in a psychiatric ward. She’s been fully assessed, though, and she’s perfectly able to make the decision for her baby. She’s struggled to connect to her, the baby’s the product of rape, and she’s been picked up a couple of times for neglect. The baby’s quite low in weight, she hasn’t been feeding regularly.” She read off her notes. “You don’t have to make any decisions today, she’s in temporary foster care for now, but I thought I’d give you the chance to take her if you’d like.”

 

* * *

 

“You know-” Freddie murmured as the children ran into the kitchen, lulled by the smell of dinner. “I- I can’t believe I was so low, like, a week ago.”

 

Jim cupped his cheek and kissed him softly. “You’ve come on leaps and bounds. I’m very proud of you.”

 

“I was going to overdose.” He murmured. “I had the tablets in my drawer. And I-” He looked up and met Jim’s eye, cheeks pinkening as he smiled. “I’m so glad I didn’t. I'm so, so fucking glad, I- I can't even explain it.” He whispered. “Because the children- they were so happy, and I bought Talulah those ballet shoes and she adored them, and I- I felt so happy, knowing that they were happy because of me. And I would’ve ruined Christmas, and I didn’t, and this is their first proper Christmas and they get to be happy and I get to be happy and I love all of you too much to leave you.”

 

“I love you so much.” Jim hugged him closely. “I can’t imagine how awful it would be to lose you. You’re the most important part of our family, you keep us all together. I’m so, so fucking proud that you chose to accept their help.” He kissed the top of his head. “Once upon a time, you would’ve suffered in silence, and you would’ve insisted you were fine until you were half dead. But you didn’t, you just accepted that you weren’t well and you let yourself be treated.”

 

“It’s like you always said.” He murmured. “You said that I look after my body so well, I always get treatment if I injure my ankle or my Achilles or whatever, and that I should do the same for my head. And I-” He took a deep breath. “I’ve been relapsing for a few months. But I don’t want to, I don’t want to be sick, I have to look after myself and my mind.”

 

“A little while ago, you wouldn’t have accepted yourself. But you did, darling, and I’m fucking proud of you.” Jim smiled. 

 

“And I’m here.” Freddie took his hands and started to smile. “I’m here, I’m okay, and I’m not going anywhere. And I-” He looked out at the window. “Oh my God!”

 

“What?” Jim asked, looking around immediately. He saw snowflakes landing on the windowsill and smiled softly, glancing again at Freddie’s face of childlike wonder. “It’s snowing.” He whispered.

 

“It’s snowing!” Freddie squealed. 

 

“Snowing?” Oliver ran back into the lounge and jumped up at the window. “Show me, show me!”

 

Freddie lifted him so he could see out the window; the little boy gasped and touched his fingers to the cold glass. “Daddy!”

 

“I know!” Freddie grinned. “How about we go out and build a snowman after dinner?”

 

“Yes!” He cuddled Freddie as they walked back into the kitchen, where everyone was sat around the table. 

 

“Sorry for making you wait.” He murmured as he sat Oliver down in the chair beside him, and then took his own place. “Do we have crackers?”

 

“I heard a mention of snow.” Dylan smiled at them. “Is it true?”

 

“It’s true!” Oliver said excitedly. “And Daddy says we can all go out and make snowmen and I might even make snowballs!” He faltered for a moment. “Though I don’t know if I should throw them. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

 

“You won’t hurt anybody, baby.” Jim said soothingly, kissing his forehead. “Just make nice, small ones and don’t make them too hard.”

 

“Thank you for cooking, Simon.” Freddie smiled over at him. “This looks delightful. I didn’t even have to cook it myself.” He grinned.

 

“No problem.” He grabbed a cracker and held it out. “Now, come on, let’s get these popped.”

 

Freddie grabbed the end of it and pulled, bursting out laughing when the bang made the children screech. “It’s a tiny bang!” Talulah said excitedly. 

 

“Try yours! You get a crown in it.” He grinned as Simon put his on. “And sometimes you even get a tiny toy!”

 

She gasped and grabbed it, holding it out to Reuben, who looked at it with wonder. Jim wrapped his arm around his son and grabbed onto it, Reuben’s little fingers just touching the cracker, and the little boy gasped and giggled as it snapped open. Freddie couldn’t help his smile when Jim put the crown on their baby, kissing the top of his head, and pulled out the tiny toy car that Reuben latched onto immediately. “God, he’s so little.” Charlotte smiled adoringly.

 

“Isn’t he just?” Jim grinned and sat him back in his high chair. “More little than we thought, actually.”

 

Freddie glanced over at him and arched a curious eyebrow. “What do you mean, darling?”

 

“I had Charlotte on the phone earlier on. She’s finally got his birth certificate for us.” He smiled. “He’s only eighteen months.”

 

Freddie couldn’t contain his squeak. “He’s a baby!”

 

“He is a baby. He’s too little to be a toddler.” Jim’s voice was full of love for their youngest. 

 

“Is that very small?” Talulah asked curiously.

 

“Very small.” Simon nodded. “That’s less than half of you.”

 

She giggled and leaned over to kiss her brother’s cheek. “He’s- he’s a lot, lot, lot smaller than Olly!”

 

“Much smaller than Olly.” Finn agreed, falling in love with his brother’s children. The sight of them, so loving, so sweet, so gentle, made him excited to have his own children: his girlfriend was pregnant with their first, and he could only hope that they would grow up to be as lovely as Jim’s. “Teeny tiny.”

 

“The smallest!” She declared, tickling Reuben until his cheeks glowed pink and he was laughing. “I love my brothers.”

 

“We love you.” Olly kissed her cheek. "You're special because you're the girl!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prepare yourselves for the next chapter we have a snowball fight AND a baby conversation it's gonna be a good time
> 
> p.s. did anyone else's parents do bells out the window? because my parents did it for me every year for like eight or nine years and it's such a treasured memory I have to put it in here


	56. Snowstorm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Important conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This probably isn't how you were expecting this to go - but it's important!

Freddie knelt in front of Oliver to tie the shoelaces of his new winter boots, a present from Charlotte; he giggled and kicked his feet excitedly, nearly hitting Freddie square in the face. “Careful, baby!” He chuckled, pressing a kiss to Oliver’s forehead.

 

“There’s snow, Daddy!” He said adamantly. He’d had to sit at the table until everybody had finished dinner, and then they’d all eaten pudding, and then Jim had made them have some quiet time in the lounge before they went to get dressed into their winter clothes - he didn’t want them all being sick, after all. In that time, though, he’d watched the snow get deeper and deeper, higher and higher, and he wanted desperately to go outside. 

 

“I know!” Freddie laughed and tweaked his ear playfully. “But if you kick me in the face, you’re not going to get your shoes on any quicker.”

 

He giggled and stilled his feet, his cheeks blushing from Freddie’s playfulness. “I heard Santa, Daddy.”

 

“Did you?” Freddie asked curiously, moving to the other shoe. “What did he say?”

 

“He didn’t say nothing.” Oliver couldn’t help his smile. “But I heard him crash. And he was laughing.”

 

“He must’ve been happy.” Freddie’s blush was scarlet; he could remember that moment.

 

_ “Jim!” Freddie burst out laughing as his lover fell over the kitchen threshold, their legs tangled together; they’d been kissing against the door, so close, so together, so one, but Jim hadn’t thought that maybe opening the door when they were leaning against it was a bad idea. “Jim!” He screeched as he fell on top of him. _

 

_ “Shush!” He laughed, winding his arms around Freddie and kissing the top of his head. “The kids!” _

 

_ Freddie made a loud shushing sound, still giggling to himself, and snuggled up against his chest. “You’re my husband.” He announced. _

 

_ “I am. You’re my husband.” Jim grinned. _

 

_ “I can’t be your husband. You’re my husband.” Freddie argued. _

 

_ “That’s not how it works!” He started to laugh. “We’re- we’re both husbands.” _

 

_ Freddie frowned. “Then who’s the wife?” _

 

“Out!” Oliver broke Freddie from his daydreams. “Please, please, coat!”

 

“Alright!” Freddie laughed and grabbed his coat from the hook, helping his arms into it and buttoning it for him. “There you go, baby. Now you can run out to Pop.”

 

Oliver faltered for a second. “Aren’t you coming?” He asked quietly.

 

Freddie didn’t quite know to explain how he felt - it was fear, he supposed, anxiety. His children had never seen snow before, and he didn’t want to ruin their first playtime by doing something wrong: they were safe with Jim, he knew, and he could watch them from the window with a cup of tea. He didn’t- he didn’t want to hurt them, he didn’t want to ruin their first Christmas, not when it was such a special time for all of them. 

 

“I don’t like the cold.” Freddie smiled at him, though his mood had slipped a little. “Go on, baby, they’ll all be waiting for you.”

 

Oliver ran out, but he couldn’t help but cast a little glance over his shoulder at his father as Freddie turned to go into the kitchen. He ran to the door and stopped before he went outside, biting his little lip. “Pop?” He called shyly.

 

“Come on!” Talulah grinned at him, all bundled up in her hat and scarf. “Pop says we can build a snowman!”

 

Oliver scuffed his shoe against the floor. “Pop?” He asked again.

 

Jim frowned and went over to Oliver, picking him up. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

 

“I think Daddy’s sad.” He murmured shyly. “He said he doesn’t want to play.”

 

Jim kissed the top of his head. “Thank you for telling me, baby.” He said softly. “I’ll go and speak to him. I love you.” Jim put him down on the doorstep again. “Wait one second, Lulah. I’ll be back in a second.”

 

Freddie jumped when two cold hands made their way around his waist, and cold lips pressed to the back of his neck. “What are you doing?” He asked, looking around at Jim.

 

“Being affectionate.” Jim sent him a sweet smile. “Olly says you won’t come and play.”

 

Freddie’s cheeks flushed. “I’m being stupid.” He muttered.

 

“You know I don’t like that word.” Jim kissed his temple. “You’re never stupid. So talk to me, what’s the problem?”

 

“I’m just- I’m scared of hurting them. It’s their first time in the snow, they don’t deserve to have it ruined.” He whispered.

 

“Why would you ruin it?” Jim asked.

 

“I-” Freddie faltered for a moment and then looked away from his eyes, his cheeks flushing scarlet. “I don’t know.”

 

“This sounds like your brain being anxious without any logic behind it.” Jim hummed. “How would it make them happy?”

 

“They’d like it if I helped them make a snowman.” Freddie whispered.

 

“There we go.” Jim smiled.

 

“But what if- what if I hurt them with snowballs?” He asked anxiously. 

 

Jim carefully turned him around so they were face to face. “You don’t have to throw snowballs. They’ll be happy enough so long as you let them throw them at you.”

 

He felt Freddie soften with relief in his arms. “So I can..?”

 

“Go and put your coat on.” Jim kissed his nose.

 

“But what-”

 

“Was it a question?” Jim teased, pleased when Freddie finally began to smile. 

 

“No.” He replied, smiling shyly. “Give me a minute.”

 

Jim watched him pull his coat and shoes on, ignoring the fact that he was still in his pajamas, an excited flush coming up and across his collarbones and cheeks. He knew that Freddie’s favourite thing in the world was snow, and once he was told he was allowed to enjoy it, he’d enjoy it to the full.

 

He stood up and smiled when Jim looped an arm around his waist. Oliver was still stood by the door, and he jumped with joy when he saw Freddie. “Daddy!” He threw his arms around Freddie’s leg. “Daddy, Daddy, I didn’t want to go in the snow without both of you!”

 

“Oh, baby.” Freddie smiled and took his hand. “Let’s jump in together!”

 

He nodded and giggled, leaping into the snow with his father. Jim went back to Reuben, who was poking holes in the snow and making tiny little balls between his gloved fingers. “Pop!” He smiled. 

 

“Look at this!” Jim picked up one of them, clearly impressed. “Well done, baby!”

 

“Daddy, I want to make a snowman.” Talulah ran over to Freddie. “Help?”

 

“Of course, sweetheart. Can you make me a nice ball?” He asked sweetly. “You too, Olly, if you’d like.”

 

He nodded and they started rolling up snow together, each one competing to make a bigger ball. Freddie went over to the pond, which was all frozen over, and picked up a handful of stones, as many as he could pile up once he’d moved the fresh snow aside, and took them back to the children. “Look, Daddy!” Oliver showed him his big snowball.

 

“Have you tried rolling it?” Freddie asked, kneeling in the snow beside him, barely even caring when the cold and the wet bit through the flannel trousers. “Look, baby, like this.” He said softly, taking a ball of snow and starting to roll it, making it bigger and bigger.

 

He watched curiously and copied him, smiling excitedly. “How big, Daddy?”

 

“As big as you can!” Freddie said, slipping into an almost childlike mindset himself. “As big as you.”

 

“As big as me?” He giggled and kissed Freddie’s cheek. “Really?”

 

“Really!” Freddie agreed. “How’s yours, Lu?”

 

She emerged from behind Oliver and showed him a snowball as big as her head. “Look!”

 

“So big!” Freddie nodded. “Even bigger!”

 

Reuben climbed onto his knee and patted cold, wet gloves against Freddie’s warm cheeks. “Hi!” Freddie kissed the top of his head, making the baby giggle. “Oh, look at you.”

 

He looked up when a warm arm wound around his waist, forgetting all about his snowball as he turned into Jim’s chest. “Look at  _ you.”  _ Jim teased and kissed his forehead. “Are you making this snowman or not?”

 

“I am, I am!” Freddie grinned up at him and started to roll snow up in his hands again. “We should make a snowcat.”

 

“A snowcat!” Talulah squealed. “Please, please!”

 

“We’ll need some twigs for whiskers.” Freddie laughed. “Let’s do it.”

 

Oliver set to finding twigs, while Talulah continued to add snow to the balls. Freddie grabbed one of his stones and piled snow upon the ground, carving out the cat a tail. Once the ball was big enough, Jim heaved it atop the pile and helped to smooth it out; Freddie then helped Talulah put the head on. She pressed on two stones for eyes, and Oliver dug the twigs in around its nose to create whiskers. 

 

“Will Ru do the nose?” Talulah asked, turning to Freddie and holding out a pebble. 

 

Freddie smiled up at her and let Reuben take the stone. “Absolutely.” He grinned, kissing his temple. He reached up to the cat’s nose and tapped it gently, lifting Reuben so that he could pat the stone against it. “Push super hard.” He chuckled.

 

Jim helped him fix it in place and smiled. “We have a snowcat!” He cheered.

 

“A snowcat!” Talulah squealed.

 

“A snowcat!” Oliver echoed.

 

“Snow!” Reuben shouted.

 

* * *

 

“This is our first Christmas as husbands.” Jim murmured, pressing kisses to the top of Freddie’s head. Most of the family were dozing around them, and Talulah and Oliver were painting by their feet; they’d put Reuben down for an afternoon nap around a half-hour ago, and Freddie was halfway to sleep himself. 

 

“Is it?” Freddie glanced up at him, and his eyes widened. “Shit. I can’t believe we only got married in June.”

 

“I feel like we’ve been married for twenty years.” He curled up and pulled Freddie into his lap, sweet and easily moved. They lay nose-to-nose, careful of prying eyes, and Jim caught his lips in the softest momentary kiss. “But also only about two minutes.”

 

Freddie smiled and snuggled against him. “It’s like Olly. In my head, we’ve had him for at least three years. We only adopted him at the end of June.”

 

“I feel like we’ve had children forever.” Jim interlaced their fingers. “I just feel like I’m so happy with how everything is, I could live like this for the rest of my life.”

 

“I love you.” Freddie whispered, kissing him again.

 

“I love you too. Seven years and we’re still in the honeymoon period.” He chuckled. “Listen, I bought you something else for Christmas.”

 

“Oh?” Freddie murmured.

 

“You might think it’s ridiculous, you might hate it.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a little box.

 

“Is it a ring?” He asked, voice happy and soft and sleepy.

 

“Yeah.” He bit his lip, fingers faltering on the box. “It’s a special crystal. I know you used to be into crystals, you used to wear that amber because of- of the way it cleansed different energies.” He said shyly. “It’s called Lemurian seed.”

 

“What does it do?” Freddie asked, excited to see what it looked like.

 

“They’re used for healing. They’re supposed to be for when everything is feeling out of balance, when you’re feeling disjointed or detached or things like that. I thought it might help with all the feelings.” He said shyly. “I don’t know if you even believe in it, but I guess it works if you believe in it, doesn’t it?”

 

Freddie couldn’t stop himself from kissing him. “Crystals don’t really do shit.” He murmured, faltering when he saw Jim’s face fall. “Not like that, darling! It’s- it’s all about believing in it, but for me, the thing that matters is when somebody buys something like that- it’s because you care enough about me to want me to feel those things. That makes it powerful.” His cheeks pinkened. “You want me to heal, and it’s like a token of how much that would mean to you. It’s a token of how much you love me, and it- it means so much to me. Every time I look at it, I can remind myself that it shows how much you love me.”

 

Jim started to smile and he carefully opened the little box, showing him a cut gemstone of milky white, powder pink, cream blending carefully amongst the cuts of light. It was pressed into a white gold ring, small enough for his ring finger. “I hope you like it.” Jim said quietly.

 

“Oh, baby!” Freddie forgot all about being quiet and instead kissed his husband fiercely. “It’s beautiful!”

 

“I thought-” Jim carefully slipped it onto the ring finger of his right hand. “Here. God, I’m more worried about giving you this than I was when I was asking you to marry me.”

 

“You don’t half wind yourself up.” Freddie teased him gently and kissed him again. “I love it, darling. Thank you.”

 

_ And it was just as he’d said: when he looked at that stone, he felt a burst of his husband’s love, molten hot through his veins, warming him from the inside out. His love was sunshine-hot and sunshine-sweet, warm and safe, the place that he could find infinite stability, softness, gentle like a feather on his cheek or the knuckles of his lover when he was sleep-sated. He curled his fist close to his chest, cradling his hands near his heart: ruby ring, engagement ring, wedding ring, healing ring. _

 

* * *

 

“Do you want a baby?” Jim asked abruptly, sitting up on the kitchen counter. “Like, a newborn?”

 

“Why?” Freddie asked curiously, looking up from where he was making a pot of tea.

 

“Don’t ask why.” Jim chastised playfully. “Do you want a baby?”

 

“Right now?” Freddie questioned.

 

Jim nodded immediately. “Right now.”

 

“No.” He took two mugs from the cupboard. “I don’t think I could deal with a baby right now. I don’t think I’m well enough.” He said honestly.

 

Jim took his hand and squeezed momentarily. “Thank you for telling me the truth.”

 

“I have to be honest.” Freddie said shyly. “I couldn’t deal with a baby. I couldn’t deal with balancing everything, I’m still struggling with three and I couldn’t do sleeplessness on top of everything. I’d have to give up a lot of my coping mechanisms, I’d have to give up a lot of the ballet, and I couldn’t leave you with three young children and a baby if everything went wrong again.”

 

“You don’t have to justify yourself.” Jim kissed him softly. 

 

“I’d rather be a good father to three kids than a bad father to four.” Freddie tried his best to smile. “It’s just- it’s logical to me. I don’t think I’ve been out of hospital long enough.”

 

“It’s fine, sweetheart.” He said soothingly. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. It’s just, when I was speaking to Charlotte, she was suggesting that she had a baby that she thought we might like. I wanted to make sure we were both on the same page about it.”

 

“I’m not saying never.” He nodded. “I’m just saying- not now. Not yet.” He whispered. “I’ve got all I need.”

 

“All you need.” Jim echoed, and then smiled. “A child, a toddler, and a baby.”

 

Freddie repeated his smile and kissed him softly. “And my husband, of course.”


	57. Melody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He writes love songs, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am henceforth banned from listening to love songs because this happens
> 
> Also, in the weirdest twist of fate, I have started teaching a literature class with two twins called Olly and Lulu and I think I've met my own characters

He moved slowly, rhythmically, movement to movement, stretch to stretch; it was soft and gentle, mindless, beautiful. He was up on the roof, the rest of the family dozing in front of a film - he’d been half asleep, but he’d been hit by a wave of desire to stretch, to move, to keep his body going. He leaned backwards, arching his spine as far as he could go, holding onto the balcony ledge to steady himself until his fingers swept the ground and he moved back around to centre. The snowflakes were still falling around him, sweet, cold, light and airy and ethereal, though he was protected by a little secluded rooftop; he was bundled up in his tights and his jacket, split-soles, pointe shoes balanced on a table nearby. He barely felt the cold as he moved down into a plié and then up again, extending his leg up in front and sweeping it backwards again, dancing to the unknown tune in his mind.

 

“Fred?” Elijah stepped up onto the roof, searching for him; as they’d been waking up, they’d become aware that he wasn’t with them, and he’d volunteered to look for him. They weren’t worried, necessarily, but they’d all quietly agreed to keep an eye on him: they wanted to know where he was, just to know that he was safe. He watched as he bent forwards, his feet in fifth for the extra stretch; he looked so graceful as he hugged the backs of his legs, holding himself close, seemingly absent from the rest of the world in his mind.

 

He stood back and watched him for a moment as he went up en demi and pulled forward into an arabesque, finding so much peace in the simplicity of the movement, no need to push or pull himself too far, too fast, too hard. He was entranced by his fluidity, his softness, the grace in his body, his simple beauty in that moment, dancing amongst the snowflakes-

 

“I know you’re watching me.” Freddie opened his eyes and chuckled. “Sorry. In a bubble.” He sat up on the ledge and grabbed his shoes from the table. “Everything alright?”

 

“Yeah.” He smiled. “Just checking you’re alright.”

 

“You’ll worry yourself to death if you focus on me.” Freddie smiled back at him, full of warmth. “I just got bored, I suppose. It feels strange to not have the shoes on for a day, you get so used to it.”

 

“I can’t imagine what it’s like. How long have you done it for?” He asked curiously.

 

“I started when I was six.” Freddie chuckled. “And I’ve done it pretty much every day since. So even when you’re supposed to take a holiday, you feel like you want to move, almost just to remind yourself that you can.”

 

He smiled curiously. “Are you worried that you’ll lose it?”

 

“Not really. Everyone knows logically that you don’t lose it in a day, but they worry all the same. You think all your muscles are going to seize up and stop working all at once.” Freddie hummed and extended his leg out in front of him as he tied the ribbons around his ankle. “Which is a ridiculous thought, really.”

 

“I don’t think it is. Sometimes I think I’m going to forget the cello if I don’t play it for like a week.” He chuckled. “I suppose it’s just what you’re used to.”

 

“I think so.” He tied the ribbon on the other shoe and stood up en pointe. “God, this hurts. I haven’t done this for about two weeks.”

 

“It hurts after two weeks?” He asked.

 

“It hurts all the time. We numb the end of our toes a lot.” Freddie chuckled, rolling through his toes to keep them warm. “I don’t tend to anymore, though. I feel like I shouldn’t, it stops me from knowing if I’m going to hurt myself too badly.”

 

“Why would you do something that hurts?” He questioned earnestly.

 

“Because it’s a skill. It’s- it’s weirdly addictive, because you know that people would kill to be able to do it, and you know that people pay hundreds of pounds to come and see you over and over again. And it’s what I’ve wanted all my life.” Freddie smiled. “Sometimes I still walk through those doors and I can’t believe I’m there.”

 

“Freddie?” Charlotte called as she came upstairs. When she saw Elijah, she smiled at him. “I didn’t realise you were up here, darling, I’m sorry for interrupting.”

 

“What is it?” Freddie asked curiously: she was holding a half-asleep Reuben in her arms, bouncing him lightly.

 

“Somebody was going to all the blankets in the lounge and looking under them for his Daddy.” She chuckled. “And he didn’t like it when I told him you were up here.”

 

“Fussy baby.” Freddie took him gently, smiling when the baby’s eyes widened and he broke out into a huge smile. “Hi!”

 

“Daddy!” Reuben giggled. 

 

Freddie kissed the top of his head and chuckled. “Hi, baby!”

 

“He loves you more than anything.” Elijah commented quietly. “Did you choose him?”

 

“He came to me.” Freddie rested him against his shoulder. “Because he’s Talulah’s half brother. I didn’t really intend to have another kid at that point, but it just- it just happened.” He smiled. “Sometimes the best things just happen to you.”

 

“You do seem to really love him.” Charlotte smiled.

 

“We do want to have a baby eventually.” Freddie kissed Reuben’s temple and smiled. “But right now, he’s the perfect age for us. Enough of a baby to be babied, we still get to do the whole milk bottles and cradles thing, but he’s also old enough to be independent enough to leave him at nursery without him getting too upset.”

 

“You want a baby?” Charlotte asked softly.

 

“Yeah.” Freddie sat on the table and couldn’t keep the smile from his face. “We decided back in August. But we don’t want to rush it, definitely not now that I’ve had to go inpatient and the like. Jim doesn’t deserve to have to look after everyone because I’ve let myself be pushed too far.”

 

“You’ve got your head screwed on. I’ve always liked that about you.” She smiled.

 

“We’re probably going to leave it a year at least. We need to be a bit more stable than we are right now. Well, I certainly do.” He rubbed Reuben’s back gently. “Jim never really wavers.”

 

“Oh, darling, he does. He just holds it in too much.” She rolled her eyes a little. “I’m forever telling him he needs to talk.”

 

“Speak of the devil.” Elijah glanced at the stairs when he heard them creak and saw a sleep-dishevelled Jim come up.

 

“What’s going on?” He yawned. He immediately smiled when he saw Reuben snuggled up to Freddie, watching the world over his shoulder, and his lover still in pointe shoes though his feet were going pink with the cold. “Is he okay?” He softened his voice.

 

“Just fine.” Freddie’s cheeks pinkened a little, almost shy in front of his lover; Jim had a way of making him feel so beautiful just by looking at him. “Apparently he was looking under the blankets for me.”

 

“Oh, baby.” Jim’s laugh was barely above a murmur as he stroked his fingers through Reuben’s hair. “He’ll get cold up here.”

 

“I’ll come downstairs.” Freddie smiled up at him as Jim pulled the ribbons on his shoes so that he could kick them off. 

 

“You know him so well.” Charlotte chuckled as Freddie easily slid them off with his toes. “Come on then, boys.”

 

* * *

 

Oliver’s eyes widened as he bumped down the stairs, listening to the swell of music somewhere behind a closed door. He was supposed to be sleeping, and Talulah had been fast asleep against his shoulder, but he couldn’t get over the sounds from downstairs, the faintest moments of violin and cello and piano. As he got closer, he could hear his father’s laughter amongst the notes, the way that stopped and started again.

 

He stood on his toes and reached for the door handle, but he couldn’t reach it, and so he settled instead for sitting by the door to listen to what was happening inside. It wasn’t until the door opened quickly and he nearly tumbled inside that he remembered he was supposed to be asleep: his eyes widened as he looked up at Finn. 

 

“I know I’m supposed to be bringing tea.” His voice was filled with humour as he carefully picked up Oliver. “But can I bring you a child instead?”

 

“It depends which one it is.” Freddie sat up from where he’d been lounging on the sofa with a glass of wine; he was maybe a little tipsy, but nothing like the evening before. 

 

Oliver watched his father curiously as he put his glass down; he moved as though his bones were heavier than usual, and his smile was that same smile he wore in the morning before he had his coffee. He loved that smile, though, the same smile he saw if he crept into the bed at three in the morning, the same one that he’d gotten when they’d been awake together his first few nights at home - he found himself instinctively twisting his body to reach for Freddie.

 

“Hello, darling.” Freddie’s voice was warm as he took Oliver and cuddled him close. “How’s my little boy?”

 

“I like the music.” Oliver said, snuggling down. 

 

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” He ran his fingers through his hair, talking to him almost as though he were an adult. “We’re just having a tea break. The boys have been playing for me.”

 

“For you?” He whispered.

 

“I like to listen to it. I’ve always liked music, it’s one of the reasons I dance.” Freddie smiled. “I listen to music like this all day.”

 

“All day.” He murmured. “Daddy, how do I dance here?”

 

“You don’t.” Freddie kissed the top of his head. “Christmas is a holiday time. Classes don’t run right now.”

 

“You have ribbon marks.” He pointed at Freddie’s ankles.

 

Freddie chuckled and lay back a little more. “I was stretching.”

 

“With the shoes.” Oliver raised his eyebrows mimicking when Freddie raised one eyebrow at him.

 

“Don’t raise your eyebrows at me!” Freddie burst out laughing. “Jim, look at this!”

 

“What are you doing, baby?” Jim asked Oliver, chuckling when he turned around and raised his eyebrows at Jim. “Cheeky little thing.” He pinched his cheek affectionately. 

 

Oliver giggled as soon as he could tell they weren’t really cross with him. “But Daddy-”

 

“Just because I do it doesn’t mean you should.” Freddie kissed his temple and chuckled. “I’m allowed to be cheeky, I’m a grown-up.”

 

“Look, look, this is what I was talking about.” Dylan brought over the sheet music he’d been searching for and showed it to Jim. “It’s yours. Your song.”

 

“That’s-” Jim was surprised that he’d found him in an anthology; the Royal sorted out the royalties and put them in his paycheck every month, and he never quite knew where his music ended up. “That’s amazing.”

 

“Let me see!” Freddie leaned up to look at the papers. “Oh, I fucking hate that song.”

 

“Freddie!” Jim nudged him playfully. 

 

“I do!” He laughed and looked at Dylan. “He wrote that with one of my ballet masters because I kept complaining about the music being too slow.”

 

“I can’t even play it. I can’t imagine what it’s like to try and dance to it.” He chuckled.

 

“It’s evil. Half the class drop out before mid-way through.” Freddie glanced up at his husband and laughed. “I threatened to divorce him last time he played it.”

 

Dylan chuckled. “Can you teach me it?” He asked hopefully. “I was thinking- I need to talk to you about something, actually.”

 

“Shoot.” Jim nodded, mindlessly tapping the end of Oliver’s nose when he smiled up at him. 

 

“I’ve been offered a job at the Royal.” His cheeks flushed scarlet, pride and nervousness all mixed into one. “And I know- I know it’s your patch, I don’t want to encroach on you, I thought I’d ask what you thought.”

 

“What’s the job?” Jim asked, breaking out into a grin.

 

“Pianist.” He glanced over at Freddie, who was grinning, wine-drunk and happy.

 

“Look at you!” Freddie said happily. 

 

“You’re my new pianist?” Jim asked, unable to hide his delight. “That’s amazing!”

 

“You’re alright with it?” He asked shyly.

 

“Of course I am!” Jim hugged him tightly. “Oh, you’ll love it. It’s such a good place to work.”

 

“I was worried you’d think I was standing on your toes.” He smiled and rubbed the back of his neck.

 

“Definitely not. I’ve been complaining that we don’t have enough pianists for months, I’ve been worried since about my second going on paternity leave.” Jim smiled. “And I know you work hard, and I know you’re good at what you do.”

 

“Congratulations, darling.” Freddie said earnestly. 

 

“Thank you.” He turned to Freddie and smiled. “I hear you’re the one that’ll kick me into shape.”

 

“What a reputation.” Freddie laughed. “I like things done a certain way, shoot me.” He kissed the top of Oliver’s head. “Speaking of which, baby.”

 

Oliver pouted, not wanting to go to bed when his father was so playful and cuddly. “Please?” He asked hopefully.

 

“It’s bedtime, Olly.” Jim said gently; once the both of them had made a decision, it stuck firm. “It’s getting late.”

 

He pouted again but nodded, snuggling against Freddie. “Milk first?”

 

“Deal.” Freddie said immediately, though an arch of Jim’s eyebrow told him that he was being decadent. “It’s still Christmas, after all.”

 

Oliver smiled as Freddie took him into the kitchen and poured him a cup of milk. “Do you want me to take you or Pop, darling?”

 

Oliver looked between them, one to another, and then frowned. “Both?” He asked hopefully.

 

Jim glanced at Freddie and then smiled; he was decidedly the more sober of the two of them, and he didn’t trust Freddie not to wake the others. “Both sounds like a good idea.” He agreed.

 

Freddie peppered kisses over Oliver’s cheeks and then lifted him and handed him to Jim. “My back’s twinging again.”

 

“It’s alright, darling.” Jim said soothingly, dropping a kiss on his cheek. Oliver sipped his milk as Jim carried him upstairs, Freddie following close behind them; he smiled as he carefully opened the bedroom door, glancing first at Talulah, curled up in the middle of the big double bed, and then at Reuben in his crib. “Darling, look.” He whispered.

 

“They’re so peaceful.” Freddie smiled and pulled the blanket aside so that Jim could lay him down. “Goodnight, sweetness.” He said softly. 

 

“Na-night, Daddy.” Little arms looped around his neck and Freddie almost felt a little tearful, as though he could feel the love radiating from his little boy. 

 

“I love you.” Freddie kissed his forehead and pulled back.

 

“Night night, darling.” Jim whispered, catching his lips in a quick kiss before he pulled back. 

 

“Love you.” Oliver looked up at both of them and then closed his eyes, contented and sleepy and forever trusting his parents to care for him.

 

* * *

 

Freddie’s fingers were lazy as they swept back and forth over Jim’s hair, lulling him close to sleep; it was rare they lay like this, Jim’s head on Freddie’s shoulder, left hands clasped and Freddie’s right tracing shapes in his hair. He could feel the gentle rise and fall of Freddie’s chest and he curled closer instinctively, wanting to know exactly what it was that Freddie loved so much about this position: cheek to bare chest, arm around his waist, soft fingers tracing his hair, his spine, patterns on his back.

 

He pressed his cheek to the swell of muscle on his chest and was swept away by a wave of feelings, senses he couldn’t remember ever indulging before: his skin was so warm, lulling him to close his eyes; his smell was so strong, so familiar curled up there; the feeling of the soft smoothness beneath his fingers was so well known to him, and yet he rarely had reason to trace his fingers back and forth like he found himself doing now.

 

More than anything, though, it was the heartbeat.

 

Freddie’s heartbeat was the most grounding thing he’d ever heard: it promised stability, it promised closeness, familiarity, regularity. It promised him that he was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere, that everything was how it should be; it slowed when he breathed out, sped up when he breathed in, perfect and natural and rhythmic and beautiful.

 

He could make it into a song, he mused, something that swelled and released like the rise and fall of his chest, something melodic, familiar, comforting, just like his heart. The song would be soft, just like his skin, but firm like the muscles he loved to trace-

 

And Freddie would make it into a dance, something passionate and yet homely, safe and yet exciting, the spark between them that never seemed to die. The candle refused to be burned out; the dance would set the bar high and push higher, faster, stronger, love, love, love. It would be burgundy, the colour of his blacks, scarlet, the colour of his shoes, white, the colour of their silk sheets. It would be sunset yellow for the evenings they’d spent with white wine out on the garden swing; it would be sunrise blush, mornings spent drinking coffee, stretching on balconies, doing hair with little pieces of silk scarves the colour of saffron-

 

And the lights would be warm, as warm as he was now, as warm as he felt right here, as warm as the press of skin against skin.

 

He understood why Freddie loved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lack of weekend chapters - I was supposed to get one up last night but my best friend spontaneously came to London and so obviously we had to go to the amazing sweet shop in Covent Garden instead


	58. For better, for worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honest truths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to emphasise that this is not going to go into massive detail about eating disorder recovery (we did that in tenebrosity) but it is mentioned in this chapter because it is a problem that he is facing and obviously we want him to get help with that!

At some point during the night, Freddie had curled up small and snuggled against his husband; there was nowhere he felt safer than in Jim’s arms when the nightmares hit, when he was struggling to let his eyes close again. A few words from his husband, grounding, comforting, warm, and those arms around him could lull him enough to calm his racing mind; he’d fallen back asleep with his lips brushing the curve of the muscle of his chest, his features soft in the cold moonlight, gentle, beautiful.

 

Jim combed his fingers through his hair, aware of the early hour of the morning, but he could tell Freddie was only, at most, half asleep; his breathing was lighter, he was wriggling a little to get more contact between their skin. He wondered occasionally if it was a hangover from his childhood: he’d never felt that love from his parents, contact and cuddling with his mother and father, and so he still longed to feel closeness, closeness as protection. He had always loved Jim’s warmth, turning to him like a baby sleeping against his parent’s chest; he wondered if his little obsession with skin-to-skin contact was him seeking the love he’d never had before.

 

He cradled the back of Freddie’s head with one hand, just lightly, testing it out; his whole body softened and he snuggled closer, a flutter of a smile crossing his lips. He let out a soft breath against Jim’s chest, never wanting to move from that spot again: Jim’s heart soared when he realised he’d worked it out.

 

Freddie liked to be babied.

 

“Good morning.” Jim whispered, tracing his thumb back and forth over Freddie’s cheekbone. 

 

Freddie hummed, half-awake, reluctant to be pulled out of the paradise of that bed, that warmth, that closeness, so safe, so protected. He rested his hand, balled in a fist, on Jim’s chest, tucking his legs up smaller; his eyes opened once, met Jim’s, and then closed sleepily again.

 

“You’re adorable.” Jim sighed happily, thumbing through his hair. 

 

“I love you.” Freddie yawned, tilting his head up: he whined, bereft, when Jim moved his hand. “No!” He grabbed it and put it back on his face, turning his head towards it to snuggle into it. “I like it.”

 

“You like being cradled.” Jim murmured, trying his best to verbalise his likes; he had a list in his head that he was always adding to, ways he liked to be touched, ways he liked to be spoken to, routines that he liked. It came to him in times of distress, when he was trying to comfort his husband, a list of things worth trying, worth saying.

 

“I love it.” He whispered. “I feel safe.”

 

“You are safe.” Jim said softly. “Very safe. Very safe and very loved.”

 

Freddie smiled and stretched out. “I feel better today.” He murmured. “I felt anxious yesterday, but I feel more relaxed today. I think the higher dose of those meds are starting to kick in.”

 

“Any side effects?” Jim asked, trying to understand him as best as he could. 

 

“Sleepy.” Freddie rubbed his face. “The benzos make you tired when they put the dose up.”

 

“But you don’t feel sick or anything?” He checked.

 

Freddie shook his head and yawned. “I’ll tell you if anything changes.” He promised, hauling himself up a little until he was almost sitting up. He leaned over and kissed Jim’s lips, long and decadent, and then broke it with another yawn. “If I don’t get up I’ll fall back asleep.”

 

“It’s boxing day, it doesn’t matter.” Jim caught his lips once more before he watched Freddie stretch and move to stand.

 

“I was going to go on a run before we woke the kids.” Freddie went over to the wardrobe and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. “I thought I’d do it early.”

 

“It’s literally six, darling, come back to bed.” Jim whined. “I wouldn’t have woken you if I’d known you were planning to leave me.”

 

Freddie looked over at him and chuckled. “It’ll be half an hour, darling, no more. I’ll be back in no time.” He shimmed his hips as he pulled on his briefs, chuckling when he saw Jim eyeing the curve of his ass. “Suddenly you’re not complaining.”

 

“There’s no point.” Jim pouted. “As soon as you’ve made up your mind, that’s that.”

 

Freddie leaned over and kissed his pout. “Go back to sleep, darling.” He carded his fingers through Jim’s hair, watching his eyes grow heavy. “I’ll be back in no time.”

 

* * *

 

Reuben wasn’t lying in that morning; no sooner had Jim’s eyes fluttered closed and the back door had shut, than he was calling loudly for his fathers. Jim had groaned as he’d pulled himself up, stifling his own yawns, and he’d gone into the children’s room; he’d managed to placate Reuben with a bottle of warm milk and was just heading for the stairs to go back to bed when the lock clicked.

 

“I’m going to get a fucking PhD in injuring myself.” Freddie murmured to himself, white-knuckle grip on the counter as he stumbled into the kitchen. “Oh, hello, darling.”

 

“What have you done?” He asked, immediately winding an arm around his waist so he could sit down at the dining table.

 

“Turns out my shoes aren’t designed for ice.” He pulled them off and winced as he extended his leg. “It’s my hamstring again. I fell in the park, I think I twisted it awkwardly.”

 

“Honestly.” Jim said, though his voice was soft; he leaned down to kiss Freddie’s forehead and sat Reuben on the kitchen table. “Want me to look for bruising?”

 

“Please.” He murmured, shucking his sweatpants off his hips. Last time, the bruising hadn’t been so bad, a patch of purple staining the skin just above the back of his knee - it hurt less this time, though, so Freddie didn’t expect much.

 

Jim helped him to lean against the table so that he could see all of the back of his leg; he winced just at the sight. He pulled up lightly on his briefs, looking at the dark purple, almost black bruising that ran from the swell of his ass right down his inner thigh, and breathed out slowly. “Shit, Freddie.”

 

“Is it bad?” He asked, immediately nervous.

 

“How does it feel?” He questioned, resting the palm of his hand on the skin. It was burning hot beneath his fingers, a little more firm than the usual bulk of the muscle. 

 

“It’s not too bad. I mean, it was the shock of it, I think, more than anything. But last time I heard something, and I didn’t hear anything this time, which is definitely positive.” Freddie twisted his head to look at his leg as best he could.

 

“You’re black from here-” Jim touched the top of his ass as gently as he could. “Down to here.” He rested his finger just above his knee. “It looks awful.”

 

Freddie worried his lip between his teeth. “I suppose that’s karma for punishing myself in the gym for months.”

 

“Christ.” Jim helped him back into his sweatpants. “Hang on, I think we’ve got crutches in the cupboard under the stairs.”

 

Freddie fell heavily back into the chair and winced when he smacked his hamstring against the wood. “Daddy?” Reuben asked softly, crawling closer.

 

“Hello, baby.” Freddie kissed his forehead, using his baby to distract himself. “Daddy’s been silly.”

 

“Silly.” Reuben sat next to him and put a thumb in his mouth. “What?”

 

“Daddy’s hurt his leg.” Freddie said softly, reaching a tea towel off the side to wind around it and tie as tight as he could; the numbing, painful ache was beginning to spread, but he didn’t have the luxury of his usual array of braces and supports to help. 

 

Reuben frowned as he watched him, little fingers resting on Freddie’s shoulder. “Ouch?” He asked quietly.

 

“Very ouch.” Freddie kissed his nose and smiled up at Jim when he came back into the room. “Thank you, darling.” He murmured as he took the crutch, standing up and leaning heavily on it. 

 

“Do you need to go to the hospital?” Jim asked worriedly.

 

“No, darling.” Freddie leaned up and kissed his lips. “It’s not actually that bad. I can support my weight on it, and tears always make your leg weaker, so I think it’s just a pull. It’s just bruised badly.”

 

“You need to stop injuring yourself.” Jim kissed his forehead lightly and sighed. “You need to make the most of this break, Fred. I know that you’re worried about losing it, but you’re not a machine. You can’t just keep going and going.”

 

Freddie’s cheeks coloured with something between embarrassment and shame; he felt as though he was being reprimanded for just trying his best, trying to keep up fronts, trying to keep everything together. “Sorry.” He murmured shyly, resisting the urge to withdraw into himself; he knew it must be frustrating for Jim that they couldn’t have this type of conversation without humiliated tears burning at the back of his throat, an incessant fear of being a disappointment.

 

“Hey.” Jim’s voice softened and he tried to tilt Freddie’s chin up, but Freddie stayed resolutely staring at his bare feet. “Baby, look at me.”

 

There was a sick fear in the back of his mind somewhere, remembering those words for all the wrong reasons;

 

_ “You don’t speak to your mother like that!” Freddie was so frightened; he hadn’t realised that that was what that English word had meant. It was what all the boys at school had said in the playground. _

__

_ “Come here. Look at me.” He swallowed hard, head bowed, and walked to his father. His six-year-old legs trembled beneath him. “Head up. Close your eyes.” _

__

_ He followed each command immediately, his stomach twisting with fear. He fell back as the hand collided with his cheek, so much anger and authority coming from the pain that flared through his face. _

__

_ Freddie burst into tears and curled up on the floor. Once their father had left, Kash came and lay with him. _

 

Freddie didn’t even realise he wasn’t breathing until he took a sudden gasp of air, the sound desperate and panicked, fearing pain, fearing hurt, fearing the power behind those hands that he’d admired for too long-

 

_ The sound of his fist against Freddie’s skin made a dull smacking sound, the pain spreading through his skin like wildfire; he fell to his knees and clutched at his cheek, choking on the sob of hurt and humiliation, the fear, everything he’d thought was so right was so wrong and he was so scared, so fucking scared- _

 

Jim wrapped his arms around him, his heart breaking a little when his husband flinched, and carefully cradled the back of Freddie’s head with the palm of his hand; his other arm was tight around his waist, keeping him from falling as his legs shook beneath him. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” He whispered. “I’m not angry, Freddie, darling, you’re safe, you’re alright.”

 

Freddie couldn’t seem to get his breath; he heaved and spluttered on it, as though his lungs refused to work together, sending jolts of pain through his chest each time he tried.

 

“Sweetheart, you’re safe.” He promised again, starting a soothing rhythm with his thumb on the back of his lover’s neck. “I’ve got you, baby, I’m not going to hurt you.”

 

“Jim-” His voice cracked and he wrapped an arm around himself defensively, his cheeks growing wet with tears.

 

“It’s alright.” Jim shushed him carefully. “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to let anybody hurt you.”

 

He heaved in a breath, a whole, full breath, and grabbed onto him when he felt like he was about to fall over.

 

He tightened his arm around him and carefully rested him against the table to help support him. “You’re safe.” He whispered again, pulling back a little to wipe his husband’s tears. He cursed himself for not thinking of better words; he knew that Freddie struggled with feelings of disappointment, unworthiness, fear, at the best of times, and especially when he was so vulnerable.

 

Eventually, his eyes closed tiredly, and Jim carefully picked him up. He was far less used to having panic attacks these days, and his recovery period wasn’t what it had once been; he needed more time, now, time to relax, time to rest, time to reclaim his body and his mind. He glanced around when his feet left the ground, but he was too exhausted to protest, too miserable to stand up for himself; he would’ve let anybody do anything they wanted in that moment, so long as he could rest.

 

He still half expected hands on his belt.

 

Jim lay him down in bed and pulled the covers over him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Get some sleep, baby.” He whispered. “I’ll be just downstairs.”

 

Freddie grabbed his hand as tightly as he could. “Don’t leave.” He whispered.

 

Jim glanced at the doorway. “I need to go and get Reuben, sweetheart.” He said softly. “But I’ll be back, okay?”

 

Freddie bit his lip anxiously but nodded all the same. Jim ran downstairs, retrieved the baby, and came back into their room, placing a tired Reuben in the spare crib in their bedroom and then curling back up with Freddie.

 

* * *

 

“I’m alright, I’m alright.” Freddie was leaning heavily on his crutch as he made his way into the lounge. “It’s my bastard hamstring again. I went on a run this morning, I think I pulled it.”

 

“I wonder if there’s a time you’ll ever come to us and not be injured in one way or another.” Simon chuckled and moved over so that Freddie could sit down between him and Jim. Jim took his hand, light and tentative, and squeezed ever so gently, a moment of reconciliation between them; Freddie cast a soft smile over at him, promising no anger.

 

“Probably not.” Freddie leaned against Jim, snuggling closer when he wrapped an arm around him. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too.” Jim pressed a kiss to his temple, relaxing when he felt it was clear that Freddie wasn’t holding those words against him. 

 

“By the way, Freddie, this is Lizzy. She’s Finn’s girlfriend.” Charlotte said softly as Freddie glanced over at the other side of the room. “Lizzy, this is Freddie, Jim’s husband.”

 

“Husband?” She asked curiously. “It’s illegal.”

 

“We live in England.” Jim explained, petting through Freddie’s hair idly. “We got married pretty much as soon as it was legalised.”

 

“About six months ago.” Freddie glanced at his wedding ring and smiled softly, fighting the urge to hide his blushing cheeks in lover’s chest like he would’ve done if they were alone. “June the first.”

 

“How long were you together before that?” She asked curiously.

 

“How long?” Freddie glanced up at Jim, as though he didn’t know the exact dates. 

 

“You know how long better than I do.” Jim chuckled.

 

Freddie’s cheeks darkened further and he grinned shyly. “Seven years.”

 

“And what?” Jim teased, knowing he’d know the answer.

 

“Three months, and sixteen days to today.” Freddie hugged his knees and laughed a little. “I like dates, sue me.”

 

“Christ, you could’ve fooled me into thinking you’d been together a year or two.” She laughed.

 

“You wouldn’t be the first to say that.” Jim squeezed his husband lightly. “We’re always being told we’re in the honeymoon phase.”

 

“I don’t know if it’s the honeymoon phase anymore.” Freddie shrugged. “I think it’s just how we are.”

 

“It’s a good way to be.” Finn sat down next to her and kissed his cheek. “Why don’t you tell them our news, darling?”

 

Lizzy glanced up at him and took his hand, squeezing it lightly. “I think you should.” She whispered.

 

“We didn’t think it was fair that Jim got the monopoly on little ones.” He glanced over at his brother and grinned. “We’re having a baby.”

 

“Oh my God!” Charlotte squealed. “Another one!”

 

“Congratulations.” Jim grinned at him, pulling a blanket over Freddie when he started to shiver. “Treasure it. Kids are the best.”

 

“They are. You’ll have a great time.” Freddie agreed. 

 

“I just hope they’re as cute as yours.” Lizzy chuckled. “I met your youngest earlier on, what’s his name?”

 

“Reuben.” Freddie smiled instinctively. “My little Ru. He’s eighteen months.”

 

“Oh, bless him.” She chuckled. 

 

“Where are they now?” Freddie glanced up at Jim.

 

“In their room, last time I checked. Ru went back to bed for a while, Olly and Lu weren’t wanting to get up. I’ll do breakfast in a minute, that’ll force them out of bed.” Jim chuckled.

 

Freddie pouted. “I want the baby.”

 

“I’ll go and check on them.” Jim stood up quickly and jogged up the stairs. “How are we doing, sunshines?”

 

“Pop!” Reuben was stood in his crib, clinging onto the bars, and immediately reached for Jim when he came closer. 

 

“Hello, sweetheart.” Jim kissed his forehead. “Did you sleep well?”

 

“Yes!” He said excitedly, and snuggled close to him. 

 

“Olly?” Jim looked at the bed, where there were two giggling lumps under the covers. “What are you doing, Lu?”

 

He pulled down the blankets, revealing two children and a set of sheets entirely covered in paints. “Oh my God!” He laughed.

 

“We’re being Daddy’s picture!” Talulah grinned, and Jim took a moment to look at them both; they’d painted the hollows of their faces with the same colours that Freddie used for shadows, purples and blues and greens, and he was almost a little impressed.

 

“You’ve made a mess.” Jim chuckled. “Why don’t you go and show Daddy?”

 

They ran downstairs and Jim followed them with Reuben on his hip. “They were getting up to mischief.” He announced, listening to the shocked gasps of his family. “We’ll buy you new sheets.”

 

Freddie laughed at the sight of them. “What have you been doing?” He asked.

 

“We’re your picture.” Oliver said proudly: it had been his idea, to mimic the picture he’d seen so many times before. He’d learned the sequence of the colours on his cheeks, his forehead, Talulah’s chin and neck, and he’d recreated them diligently.

 

“You know-” Freddie tilted his chin up a little. “This is nearly perfect.”

 

“Nearly?” Talulah asked, sounding offended. 

 

“You’re missing the gold.” Freddie grabbed a pen off the counter and leaned closer, drawing a stripe of gold down her nose. “Now you’re perfect.”

 

She giggled delightedly. “What do you think?”

 

“I think you’ve done wonderfully. Who painted who?” He asked curiously.

 

“I painted Lu and me.” Oliver said proudly. “Because I like the picture, Daddy, so now we can be the picture.”

 

“You sure can.” Freddie chuckled. “Good work, Olly. However, pictures don’t get hungry like children do. So I’m going to need you to wash your hands for me while your Pop makes you breakfast.”

 

They ran off to the bathroom and Freddie hauled himself up on crutches before he made his way into the kitchen, where there was just his husband and Reuben. “Hey.” Freddie said gently, trying to get his attention. “I just wanted to say sorry.”

 

“Sorry?” Jim echoed. “For what?”

 

“For being all stupid and getting myself upset over what you said.” Freddie’s cheeks flushed scarlet with embarrassment.

 

“Sweetheart.” Jim tilted his chin up and kissed him softly. “It’s alright. I should’ve thought more about what I was saying.”

 

“It’s just- it must be so frustrating for you, you know, that we can’t just have conversations about things like normal adults. That I can’t take criticism like a normal person.” Freddie mumbled shyly. “I just- I know I’m overdoing it, but I- I can’t seem to stop, because then the anxiety, it’s so- it’s overwhelming, it feels like I’m being strangled.” He took a deep breath. “Every time I slow down, my mind obsesses over the idea that I’m gaining weight, and I spiral down because I’m scared that I’ll lose my job, and if I lose my job because I’m not fit enough anymore, I won’t be the man you fell in love with, and then I’ll lose you, and the children, and- and-” He bit his lip. “I’m scared. It’s like these voices, they shout so loud, and they’re so scary because they want me to push myself until it hurts and I’m crying and I’m bruised and broken, and I don’t want to do that, but they keep pushing and pushing until I give in because I’m not strong enough and I push myself so hard I get hurt, and then I can’t do anything, and then they tell me I’m useless, and it’s- it’s too much.” His voice was barely a broken whisper by the end, frightened to admit it in case Jim thought he was crazy.

 

“Oh, darling.” Jim pulled him close. “I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t know.”

 

“I’m insane.” Freddie rested the palm of his head against his forehead. “I just- I can’t make them go away, no one can make them go away, but it’s- it’s just another thing, isn’t it, another way to kill myself, it’s my head trying to circumvent the fact that I’m- I’m trying not to think about anything like that.”

 

“You’re not insane, sweetheart. I think we need to speak to your team about it.” He said gently. “Maybe you’ve regressed back into those tendencies, or something. Since your crash.” He carefully cupped Freddie’s cheeks.

 

Freddie held onto one of his wrists and sighed. “It’s not just since then. I haven’t been well for a while.” He said quietly. “When I was doing those stupid days, I wasn’t eating until we had lunch together, and it was like- I wasn’t allowed to eat until I’d hit seven hours of dance. I punished myself by making myself get up early and I lost all that time with you because I was afraid that you’d see I wasn’t well. And I- I hated it, Jim, I was cold and I was hungry and I was tired and miserable but I still pushed myself through it because my head said I had to.”

 

Jim sighed softly. “Then we really need to talk to your team.” He said gently. “What does it feel like right now?”

 

“I’m scared you’re going to make me eat breakfast.” He said truthfully. “Because- because I didn’t really burn much on my run because I was only going for about twenty minutes before I fell. And I- I’m scared that it’ll be huge and I won’t be able to exercise for weeks because of my leg and I’ll blow right up.”

 

Jim leaned forward and kissed the top of his head. “I do want you to eat breakfast.” He said gently. “But I’m not going to gorge you. You tell me what to make, and I’ll make it.”

 

Freddie still sometimes couldn’t believe that his husband was so level, so understanding; he couldn’t believe that his responses were so calm, so well thought out, that he never lost his temper when Freddie was frightened and irrational. He wanted to honour that; he wanted to be better; he wanted to try his best, for Jim; for all of them; for his family. “Eggs.” He said quietly. “Eggs and toast. But- I’d like them to be poached or boiled.” He bit his lip. “I don’t want them to be oily or buttery.”

 

“Okay. But you have to eat it.” He said, voice a little firmer. “Don’t push it around. The kids will be eating at the same time, they’ll be watching you.”

 

Freddie nodded shyly. “Okay.” He whispered. “I’ll try.”

 

* * *

 

“Will you look after the children?” Jim asked Charlotte hopefully. “Freddie and I, you know we’ve been through some shit recently, and I really want to take him out on a nice date.”

 

“Oh, sweet!” She smiled. “Of course. Where do you want to take him?”

 

“I was thinking Token.” He smiled shyly. “Retro pinball machines seem like his kind of thing. It doesn’t involve too much walking, and eating dates are so predictable, so I wanted to do something different.”

 

“I think he’ll love it, darling. You always loved that place as a teenager.” She nodded. “Tonight?”

 

“Tomorrow. I think we need to just relax tonight, we might take a bath together, I know he’s got a therapy call later on. I don’t want to rush him, and he won’t want to stand up for that long tonight.” He sat beside her and yawned. “I think we’re starting to get through things, now. He’s being honest again. I’ve known for a long while that he’s not well, but today we had an actual conversation about it, he admitted it to my face. I feel like we’re moving forwards.”

 

Freddie sat beside him heavily, not caring if he imposed himself on their conversation. “I heard you had quite the morning, darling.” Charlotte said, voice light and sympathetic.

 

“It was just a panic attack. I haven’t had one for a while.” He yawned. “I’m alright.”

 

“I’m sorry to hear that, darling.” She said gently.

 

“Don’t be. In some ways- it’s probably a good thing.” He glanced up at Jim and smiled a little. “Because it means I’m feeling things. I’m not numb. And I guess- I guess I have to start tackling everything head on, not just the things I want to deal with.” He took Jim’s hand, interlaced their fingers, and then smiled a little. “I’ll do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you guys remember a few months ago that I told you I'd met fluorescent!fred irl? Well today I met fluorescent!jim, and I'm not even joking, his boyfriend is fluorescent!freddie, and it's the weirdest experience I've ever had


	59. Oil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters have such weird vibes but I'm kind of feeling them

Jim cupped the water in his hand, warm, cerulean blue, and ran it through Freddie’s hair, feeling the muscles of his neck and shoulders relax as he lay back against his husband’s chest. He closed his eyes, interlacing his fingers with Jim’s and squeezing tight; he shivered as another handful of water ran over the contours of his neck, down his throat, painting trails on his skin, almost pale green against the gold. He felt peaceful, for once, not so frightened; he could feel the push and pull of breath in his chest, and the rise and fall of his lover’s behind him. He rested his head back against the hollow between his shoulder and his neck, turning his face in a little so that he could feel the press of skin against skin; he swore he knew this little bit of Jim’s body better than any other part, sweet and familiar and beautiful.

 

“This is nice.” Freddie arched his head back a little as Jim ran the water over his neck and his chest, raising goosebumps on his skin. “That feels good.”

 

“That was the idea.” Jim kissed his temple and let his fingers trace the muscles on his chest, feather-light.

 

“Jim.” Freddie sighed, arching up into the touch; he wanted more, grounding hands, tethering him to the ground. 

 

“I’ve got you.” He whispered, smoothing his hand over Freddie’s waist and holding on, touch still gentle. “I’m here with you, you’re not going anywhere.”

 

Occasionally Freddie’s mind could feel like a supernova, burning, spinning out of control; he could lose sense of where he was, who he was, when the frightened thoughts kept whirling and whirling, demanding attention, demanding every last drop of his energy. His heart was still pounding, had been all day; Jim’s fingers pressed ever-so-gently into the pulse point on his neck, and he slowed the pace of his thumb on Freddie’s hip, giving him something to focus on.

 

The slow breaths slowed his heart, regained his mind, until he was no longer spinning; he melted in the arms of his lover, his body relaxing as his heart began to slow. “Give me your hand.” Jim said softly, holding out the palm of his hand. Freddie put his hand in Jim’s and smiled when his lover pressed down on the pressure point between his thumb and his forefinger, letting his eyes close again. “How’s that?”

 

“You know.” Freddie smiled, consciously relaxing each muscle in his shoulders, his back, all around his spine, his legs, his feet, his face. “Heaven.”

 

“You’ve always loved this.” Jim smiled. “Makes you melt.”

 

“Turns my brain off.” Freddie curled up and let out a long breath. “Feel my heart.”

 

Jim pressed his fingers back to the pulse point and felt how much slower his heart was. “Crazy.”

 

Freddie’s laugh was soft and beautiful as he leaned up to kiss Jim. “How do you always know?”

 

“I don’t know. Maybe I can read your thoughts.” Jim let go of his hand and went back to running the water through his hair. “I could tell you were starting to think again. I know you wanted to relax.”

 

“I just really love being with you.” Freddie murmured, pressing a lazy kiss to his skin. “Like, romantically and just physically. I just love laying with you and being in the same space as you and being able to be touched by you.”

 

“You’ve always loved touch.” Jim cradled his cheek and held him close. “You’ve always liked to be close. It reminds me of the kids.”

 

Freddie smiled. “I think it’s because it reminds me of when we first met. Because- because obviously, I was all on my own, and I didn’t have parents to keep cuddling me and looking after me. And Paul was- well, he was affectionate, but it was on his terms. Sometimes he cuddled me, but it was usually after he’d been hurting me. You were the first person I’d ever met that just- just wanted to be close to me.” He whispered. “And you just liked to sit with me and trace my hair and my muscles and patterns on my skin, and you didn’t expect anything in return.”

 

Jim pressed a lazy kiss to his temple and smiled. “You ground me. I used to like to touch you when I felt like I was spiralling, but now it’s like I remind myself of how good it makes me feel to cuddle you close.” He wrapped both arms around his waist and his smile grew wider. “Every time I touch you, it’s like a giant rush of happiness. I think I’m addicted to it.”

 

Freddie blushed scarlet. “Sometimes I wonder where I’d be if it wasn’t for you. Like- I don’t know if anyone would be as supportive as you are. You never seem fazed when I need your help, or I need you to look after the children, or if I can’t deal with something.”

 

“You don’t need to think about not having me. You’ll always have me.” Jim squeezed his hand. “I support you because I love you and I want you to get better.”

 

“But not everyone would support me like you do.” Freddie murmured. 

 

“Not everyone deserves to be your husband. Someone that can’t love you like I do doesn’t deserve you.” He smoothed his thumb over Freddie’s hand. “I fucking adore you, Freddie. That doesn’t change just because you’re unwell at the moment. We’re married, and I knew something like this could happen when I married you, I’m not surprised or shocked or horrified. It’s just part of you, and I fell in love with all of you.”

 

“I don’t know how you can love it.” Freddie admitted. “Because it’s horrible and dark and nasty and it says horrible things about me.”

 

“Do you love me less when I have a panic attack?” He asked.

 

“Well-” Freddie faltered. “No. Because I know that it’s just that something’s triggered you and I know you won’t be like that forever and that’s when you most need my support.”

 

“So what’s different about when you have a bad period?” Jim questioned.

 

“I might be like it forever.” He whispered, looking embarrassed.

 

“Do you really think that?” He asked. “Because I don’t. We lived together for the best part of five years without you having a bad period. I know that it can feel like forever, and it can feel like such a huge part of your personality, but it’s not. It’s six months, and we’ve been together for over seven years. And you feel like it drowns out all the good in you, but I watch you snuggle the children or cuddle me in the middle of the night or dance or paint or whatever, and I still see Freddie. I might see you as sick sometimes, but you’re still Freddie, you’re not your illness.”

 

“I don’t want to be sick.” Freddie whispered. “I hate stupid intrusive thoughts. I want to go back to this time last year.”

 

“You don’t want to go back into the past. The future is going to be so much better than the past ever was, even when you were at your best. Because in the future, we’re married, we have our children, and we didn’t have that a year ago.” He smiled. “Think about how amazing our future could be.”

 

“If I just learn to fucking eat without winding myself up into a frenzy and I learn to regulate myself better.” Freddie looked down at his hands. “What can I do?”

 

“Listen to me when I’m trying to make your life better.” Jim chuckled. “Because we’re going to get you better. I don’t care if it takes years, but we’ll get there. We’ll get you back to where you were. Better than where you were.”

 

* * *

 

“What are you doing?” Talulah asked curiously, watching as Freddie laced his tap shoes. “Your leg, Daddy!”

 

“I know, princess.” Freddie chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt myself.”

 

She sat opposite him and frowned curiously. “Then what?”

 

“I wanted to try this.” Freddie rocked his foot back and forth, listening to the tapping of his shoe. “Remember that I forgot how to do my dancing?”

 

She nodded curiously. “Do your feet remember?”

 

“I think they might. And if my feet remember, then my brain might too.” He told her. His left foot moved easily for a few beats, though his right lagged behind; he forced himself to stop thinking about it, to just let them move without putting too much effort into it, and focused on the awed look on his daughter’s face.

 

“Can I do that?” She asked. 

 

“You should be able to.” He told her, starting to speed up the pace of his feet. “When you go to classes with Olly, you’ll learn all kinds of dancing. This is tap dancing, and you know ballet, and you can learn contemporary and jazz too. I learned all of them.”

 

She cocked her head to the side, curious. “Why do you like ballet more?”

 

“Why do I?” He asked her. “Because I like how it feels. I like to jump up and down and feel like I don’t weigh anything. It’s a very special feeling. I get to be very quiet even when I’m doing things that should be very loud.”

 

“Do you like quiet?” She asked.

 

“I love quiet. You know when everything is super loud, and then it all goes quiet, and you get to be able to relax? I love that a lot.” He stopped tapping for a moment. “But then these shoes are good when I want to be loud.”

 

She giggled. “How do you dance in them?”

 

“You have to move your feet in a certain way. You go like this-” He tapped his toe down. “You go toe, heel, heel, toe, and then you jump onto the toe of the other foot and start again.”

 

“What’s going on in here?” Jim asked, coming into the kitchen. “I hear the sounds of overexertion.”

 

“No you don’t.” Freddie smiled up at him. “I’m not even stood up.”

 

JIm arched an eyebrow and sat up on the table. “Am I hallucinating the sound of you tapping?” He asked playfully, glancing at his shoes.

 

“Daddy is sitting down.” Talulah said, clearly in support of her father.

 

“Can you tap sitting down?” He asked. 

 

“Look!” Freddie started to move his feet again, proud and happy as the sound reverberated off the tiles; Jim glanced at his feet but mostly focused on his face, the absolute elation that he seemed to radiate. He had wondered if Freddie would ever tap dance again; after throwing his shoes at the mirror, he’d wondered if Freddie would ever want to again. But now, seeing how proud he was that something had clicked, memory or muscle memory, Jim felt himself relax.

 

“I’m so proud of you.” He picked Freddie up easily and pressed a kiss to each cheek. “Baby, that’s amazing!”

 

“You were right. I can do it.” Freddie whispered, almost awed, and snuggled against him. “I thought I wouldn’t do it again.”

 

“I did wonder.” He admitted. “I thought you’d given up on it. I didn’t realise you’d brought the shoes with you.”

 

“I just- it was my thing, wasn’t it, I won competitions and scholarships with that, I couldn’t just give up on it. I wanted to know if I’d lost it forever.” Freddie smiled. “And I haven’t. I’ve got it.”

 

Jim kissed his forehead again. “You can do anything.”

 

* * *

 

_ “So how’s it been?” Anna questioned, sounding almost excited to speak to him again. “It’s been three days since we spoke, how have they been?” _

 

_ “Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were both good. I was a bit high stress, but I wasn’t having many of the intrusive thoughts. I haven’t really thought about death much at all, apart from being glad that I was here on Christmas. I really felt that the kids were much happier than they would’ve been if I was gone.” Freddie tucked his knees up and snuggled down in the armchair by the phone.  _

 

_ “Oh, darling, I’m so happy you felt they were good. How has today been?” She asked. _

 

_ “Today was a bit more tricky. I was struggling with a lot of intrusive thoughts about my body again, and I pulled my hamstring out running, so I couldn’t exercise to help me cope.” He explained shyly.  _

 

_ “So how did you cope with them?” She asked. _

 

_ “I actually spoke to Jim about them instead of not talking. I- I told him what I told you, about not being well for a while, and he- he just understood me completely. He did tell me off for pushing too hard, and I- I did have a panic attack, but I think it’s just because I knew he was right and I knew I was at a point of no return, because I couldn’t back out of changing things.” His cheeks flushed lightly. “And he did say some really lovely things that made me feel better.” _

 

_ “What did he say?” She questioned curiously. _

 

_ “I told him that I was worried I was going to be like this for the rest of my life. And he told me that even when I’m sick, and I imagine that all he can see is my sickness like some kind of huge shadow over me, that’s not what he sees at all. He says that he knows I’m sick, but he doesn’t see my illness. He still sees me as- well, me, I suppose.” He murmured. “It’s not like me, but worse, it’s just me.” _

 

_ “He accepts you for what you are, darling.” She said soothingly. “How are you feeling right this second?” _

 

_ “Quite grounded, surprisingly. My heart isn’t beating too hard, Jim and I took a bath together and I’ve felt much better since then, it’s nice to be spending time with him now that I’m not in the hospital anymore. And he promised he’d give me a back massage later on, so I’m looking forward to that. I find having him close by again to be really grounding.” He smiled. “I was worried I might be more stressed when I came here, but it’s like he can tell what I need. He’s letting me be vulnerable, and that- I think that’s what I need right now.” _

 

_ “He’s a good presence for you. He’s always been whatever you’ve needed, I’ve always liked that about him.” She smiled. “And I’m really glad you’re talking to him. Maybe this time we can try and keep you out of hospital for good, darling. You’re making such good progress, after all.” _

 

* * *

 

Freddie was half asleep as those strong hands swept over his spine, easing the muscle away from the bone, firm pressure that had him melting as he relaxed into the bed; his skin was oil-slick and so soft beneath Jim’s rough fingers. He rested his cheek against their pillow, his arms resting underneath, as the pads of his thumbs rubbed intensely over a spot on the back of his shoulders; he let out a long breath, soft and happy and warm, moving so easily with his husband’s hands.

 

Freddie glittered in the low light, Jim thought, his body catching the light at all the right angles; the light emphasised the hollows of his shoulder blades and the dip of his spine, the brutal taper from sculpted shoulders to lithe waist. It was times like this that he was allowed to stare, when he had Freddie right here, beneath his hands, wanting to be pushed this way and that, treasured, loved.

 

He couldn’t believe that they’d never tried this out before, that he’d never had Freddie so gorgeous and relaxed beneath him without physical intimacy before; they were still both in pajamas, Freddie still in his sweatpants, and yet he was more relaxed now than he often was after sex.

 

“Oh, there, please-” Freddie whispered, pressing his shoulder up a little as Jim’s fingers dug hard into a knot. “That’s so painful.”

 

“I told you you work too hard.” Jim kissed the back of his neck idly and swept over that spot with the pads of his thumbs, keeping it moving. 

 

“Not now.” Freddie’s voice was molten gold, a promise. “I’m changing.”

 

“You’re changing.” Jim echoed, sealing the promise, a stamp in the wax. “So we can look after you.”

 

“Please.” Freddie whispered again as Jim’s fingers ran down his spine, careful not to put too much pressure on the sore spots. 

 

“You don’t have to ask.” Jim whispered. “You have to do. And you can.”

 

“I can.” Freddie was lost in the rhythm of his fingers, a bow strung tight, a violin perfectly tuned. “I can, I can.”


	60. Fountains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all worth fighting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we were all shocked by the death of Caroline Flack to suicide: I hope that if you read this as a respite from your own feelings of hopelessness, you learn from it that one day, you will be so glad that you stayed alive. Death is the end of all experience, and that includes the good days; you deserve to live because you deserve those good days, more than you can ever imagine.

Freddie twisted this way and that in the mirror, trying to look at the back of his leg. “Do you think the swelling’s gone down?” He asked Jim, who was still laying in bed, watching him. “I think the bruising’s gone down.”

 

“I think you certainly look better than you did yesterday.” Jim said lovingly. “Can you stand on it?”

 

Freddie lifted his crutch off the ground and tried his best to stand evenly on both feet. “Kind of.”

 

“I think that’s standing on it. I’d expect you to have a bit of a leaning with that much bruising.” Jim crawled forward and sat at the foot of the bed. “Let me feel it.” Freddie shuffled backwards and Jim rested the palm of his hand on the bruising. “It’s not as hot.”

 

“I’m probably getting better, then.” Freddie sounded delighted. “I’m so glad it’s not completely fucked up.”

 

Jim leaned up to kiss his smile, wanting to taste it for himself; the smile pressed into his own, never dissipating, and Jim couldn’t help his own smile. The kiss broke when they were both smiling too much, descending into laughter, and Jim pulled his husband down into his lap. “I love you.” He chuckled.

 

Freddie wrapped his arms around his lover’s neck and smiled. “I love you too.” He whispered.

 

“I love you more.” Jim said playfully, laughing when Freddie rolled his eyes.

 

“You do not.” He pouted, though it quickly broke when he started giggling again. “I love you the most.”

 

“Not possible.” He said playfully, winding his arms close around Freddie. “I think you’d probably explode.”

 

Freddie laughed. “Sometimes I think I will. Sometimes it’s- it’s such an overwhelming experience, I feel so in love that I could explode.”

 

“I love you.” Jim repeated again, a little more serious, and kissed him again. 

 

“I love you too.” Freddie murmured. He fell silent and looked away for a moment, biting his lip shyly. “Do you- do you-” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

 

“It does matter.” Jim said immediately. “Ask me, baby, it’s okay.”

 

Freddie looked down and clasped his hands together. “Do you think I’ve hurt the children?” He asked quietly.

 

Jim frowned and took his hands carefully. “Why would you have hurt them?”

 

“Because- because I’m sick. And I’ve had to go into hospital, and I’ve been away from them for a week at a time, and surely- surely that’s going to damage them, like separation, it’s almost as bad as neglect.” He whispered.

 

“Oh, darling.” Jim kissed his forehead. “You’re worried they’re going to get mental health issues?”

 

“Yeah.” He whispered shyly.

 

“The problem with separation is when children feel like they aren’t loved. But the kids, they know you love them so much, they know that you’re getting better because you’ve explained all of that to them. We’ve given them stability, they’ll never think of you as abandoning them because you’re the first bit of consistent love and attention they’ve ever had.” Jim promised. “And even if they do grow up with any illnesses, it’s not your fault, and it’s not a death sentence. They can still be healthy, and they can still be happy.”

 

“But it’s such a difference from when we’re at home together. It must disrupt them so much, it’s so different to the routine we set up, all that.” He said nervously.

 

“Freddie.” Jim interrupted him carefully. “Darling, you should know that we love you very much, and we all miss you when you’re not home, but the whole routine doesn’t collapse. They still eat, and they still go to bed, and I still love them. If I wasn’t at home, you wouldn’t let everything crumble, would you? So long as you knew I was coming back.”

 

Freddie faltered for a moment. “I suppose not.” He murmured.

 

“Exactly. And so we might have tears because they miss you, but they’re not neglected when you’re not there, they’re still safe.” Jim said calmly.

 

“I just wouldn’t want them to feel like how I felt.” Jim didn’t miss that he spoke in the past - it wasn’t how he _was feeling,_ it was how he once _felt._ “Because it’s awful.”

 

“But it’s not forever. And you know you can live with it, and still be happy.” Jim kissed his forehead. “How are you feeling?”

 

“I’m alright.” Freddie promised. “I was worrying about that, but apart from that, I’ve been pretty level. And I was speaking to Anna and she was saying that if I keep talking to you, and I keep talking about the hard things and the things that make me feel upset, then I might not have to go back into hospital when we get back.”

 

“Did they want you to?” He questioned gently.

 

“It was on the cards. If I got any worse while we were here then they would’ve wanted me to go back.” Freddie said softly. “I’m not ill enough for a section or anything, but if I started hurting myself or hearing voices or something that showed I was obviously ill then they would’ve considered it. They were shaky about letting me out for Christmas.”

 

“They seemed confident.” Jim let his hands fall to Freddie’s hips and held him close. “I’m surprised that they wanted you back.”

 

“They were worried I’d spiral when I wasn’t there. But because I haven’t hurt myself, and I haven’t tried anything to end my life, I’m proving to them that I can manage myself and my feelings. It was just that I was at crisis point.” He said softly. “I don’t want to go back again.”

 

“Is it that bad?” Jim asked, sounding a little worried.

 

“No!” Freddie said quickly. “No, they’re lovely. They stay up all night with you if you need to talk, and they’re really supportive. They’ll sit with you through panic attacks or episodes where you just- you want to stay curled up on the floor all day, and even if you don’t want to move, they’ll give you a cushion so your legs don’t go numb.” He smiled a little. “But it’s not my home. It doesn’t have you, and you can’t bring the kids, and the beds aren’t comfortable, and I- I miss the fucking cat.”

 

“Sweetheart.” Jim kissed his forehead. “You just have to keep doing what you’re doing. You have to show them that you can get better.”

 

“You don’t know how amazing home is until you’re not there anymore.” He told him. “It’s when you hit the week mark. Because in most cases, you can only stay on that ward for a week before they move you onto a long term ward. And I don’t want to be on a long term ward, because then time starts to stretch out in front of you and you never know when you’ll be discharged. And I don’t want to be stuck in the hospital for the rest of my life, I want to be a father.”

 

“The hospital is there when you need it, sweetheart, but it doesn’t have to be your home. You’re allowed to use them if you’re at crisis point, but you can be at home whenever you want.” He promised. “You’re a brilliant father.”

 

Something in Freddie’s body relaxed and he took a long blink, centring himself. “I don’t have to go back.”

 

“Of course you don’t.” He said, voice soft and loving. “Your home is always with me, Freddie, no matter what.”

 

* * *

 

Oliver climbed up on the sofa and snuggled in Jim’s lap, clinging onto him tightly. “Pop.” He whispered.

 

“Hey, baby.” Jim drew his knees up a little and shifted Oliver back against his chest. “What’s the matter?”

 

He shook his head and hid his face in his father’s shirt, finding solace in the regular, predictable beat of his heart. He put his thumb in his mouth and settled down against his chest, sitting quietly for a few moments. “When will Daddy go?” He whispered eventually.

 

“Go?” Jim questioned, rubbing his back. “What do you mean, my darling?”

 

“Daddy in hospital.” He murmured. “When does he go back?”

 

Jim leaned down and kissed his forehead gently. “He doesn’t have to, sweetheart. As long as he’s getting better.”

 

Oliver looked up quickly, his eyes turning wide and bright. “Daddy’s better?”

 

“He’s getting better. Do you think you’ve seen more of happy Daddy these past few days?” Jim asked gently.

 

He nodded and hugged Jim tightly. “Did you make Daddy better?”

 

“I helped.” Jim said softly, and a wave of pride washed over him, calming, grounding. “And the doctors, too. His doctors are very, very nice people.”

 

“Thank you.” Oliver whispered earnestly, closing his eyes again. 

 

* * *

 

Jim closed the locker and wrapped a towel around Talulah’s shoulders, before he fastened the key around his ankle. He had all three children lined up nearby him - he was getting good at this, he thought, he could rival Freddie to the super father status; he was getting good at managing three, keeping them healthy, happy, secure - and he could see Freddie out of the corner of his eye, washing his hands after he’d been applying a balm to the sore muscles in his leg.

 

“Are there slides?” Oliver asked hopefully, hopping foot to foot and giggling each time his toes got wet. “Or splashes? Or waves?”

 

“I don’t know, baby.” Jim chuckled. “It’s a very long time since I last came here.”

 

“I want slides!” Talulah said excitedly. “Can you come down, Pop?”

 

“We’ll have to see if the slides are big enough, darling.” Jim said judiciously.

 

“So there are slides!” Oliver said triumphantly.

 

“There used to be. When I came here as a little boy, there were, but I don’t know if it’ll be the same.” Jim explained. “Now I’ve just got to retrieve Daddy.”

 

When he turned around, Freddie’s cheeks were flushed champagne pink, the blush he knew to come from compliments nervously accepted, forever shy. There was a man two sinks across from him, speaking in a low, hushed tone, one that Jim could assume was one of seduction; he met Freddie’s eyes in the mirror and sent him a soft quirk of the eyebrow.

 

Freddie widened his eyes slightly, the only symbol he needed. He picked up Reuben, who started to babble excitedly as soon as he realised they were heading for his Daddy; he reached his little arms for Freddie, chanting his name.

 

“Oh, hello, baby!” Freddie took the baby and kissed his forehead, lifting him in the air playfully and then settled him on his hips. “What have you done with the rest of my children?” He asked Jim playfully.

 

Jim loved that tone of voice more than anything; Freddie was relaxed enough to be loving and playful with him, sweet and happy. “They’re around here somewhere.” Jim glanced around, bursting out laughing when they jumped from behind the sinks and spooked Freddie. “There we go!”

 

“Daddy!” Talulah sang happily. “Daddy, Daddy, come on!”

 

“Who’s this?” The man asked, coming up behind Freddie.

 

“This is my husband.” Freddie glanced at Jim and smiled, shaking his hair from his face- it was getting long, too long, and it curled deliciously in that way that made Jim want to pull it. “And my children.”

 

“Your- your husband?” His eyes widened in surprise and he nodded. “Of course, of course. It’s nice to meet you.” He leaned over to shake Jim’s hand, trying to play it cool, trying to ignore the fact that the beautiful man had maybe an even more gorgeous husband- a little softer around the edges, with a face that screamed homely warmth and the safest hands that held tight to the children.

 

“You know Freddie?” Jim asked, easy as anything.

 

“I- no.” He bit his lip. “I was hitting on him.” He said honestly.

 

Jim chuckled and wound an arm around Freddie’s waist, not caring if he was playing it up a little. “That happens a lot.” He said, glancing at his husband’s face, the picture of adoration.

 

“I can imagine.” He took a step backwards, trying not to encroach on their space. “But I can see why he went for you.”

 

It was Jim’s turn to blush, and Freddie laughed kindly. “I tell him all the time.” He said fondly. “He doesn’t believe me.”

 

They were interrupted by Talulah, making loud sick noises. “Excuse me?” Freddie asked, though he couldn’t stop the amused smile from crossing his face.

 

“I want to swim!” She said impatiently.

 

Freddie knelt in front of her, mindful of not putting too much weight on one leg; he accepted Jim’s hand gratefully to help. “Is that how you behave when you want something?” He asked, careful but firm.

 

She bit her lip shyly and shook her head. “No, Daddy.”

 

“Good girl.” He kissed her forehead. “So why don’t you ask Pop and I properly?”

 

“Please can we go swimming now?” She asked, ever-so-polite.

 

“That’s more like it.” Freddie smiled. “Of course we can.”

 

“I’ll see you around.” The man shook Freddie’s hand as he stood back up again. “You’ve- well, you’ve got my number, you know, if you want to go and get a drink or something.”

 

“Yeah, thanks.” Freddie smiled, clutching tight to Jim’s hand. “I think I could do with getting in the water. Leg’s starting to hurt again.”

 

“Are you alright to do this?” Jim checked, for what must’ve been the hundredth time that day, Freddie thought idly.

 

“I’m fine. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.” He kissed his cheek gently. “Come on, then!”

 

* * *

 

_“Daddy!” Reuben giggled as they sat in the shallow end together, the water just lapping at his thighs; Freddie put his hand over a fountain to make the water spout up and shower over them both. Freddie took his hand and helped him to climb each step on the tiny bridge that went over a fountain. Reuben bumped down in the middle, looking unsure, and Freddie just smiled wider at him._

 

_“Oops!” He said playfully. “Come on, darling, you’re nearly there!” He took both his hands and helped him jump down each step, laughing when he landed in the water._

 

* * *

 

_“There’s millions of steps!” Talulah looked up at them. “Pop, is this slide very high?”_

 

_“Not very, princess. It winds around and around, it’ll take you right to where Daddy is with Reuben.” He smiled at her look of awe. “You can show him later, you can take him up here.”_

 

* * *

 

_“Pop!” Oliver screeched as they came out into a cascade of water, incessantly giggling and clutching onto Jim’s hands; he shook the water from his face, alive with excitement. “Again, again!”_

 

* * *

 

_“Can you swim?” Oliver asked curiously, swimming out to reach the ball that Freddie had thrown. “You’re big, you can stand.”_

 

_“I can swim very well.” Freddie chuckled. “My school when I was little had a big pool because it was a boarding school, so I stayed there all the time. We used to throw each other in all the time.”_

 

_“I don’t believe you.” Oliver giggled, trying to rile him up._

 

_“Don’t you?” Freddie arched an eyebrow playfully. He ducked under the water and swam over to his son, grabbing him under the water and easily lifting him up above his head._

 

_“Daddy!” He screeched as Freddie threw him up in the air and then caught him again easily, splashing him down in the water._

 

_“How about now?” Freddie kissed his nose playfully and sat him on the side. “We have a swimming pool in our garden, you should know that I swim all the time.”_

 

_He giggled and shook his wet hair from his eyes. Freddie leaned up and pushed it back for him, the same as his own. “I know.” He said sweetly. “I love you, Daddy.”_

 

_“I love you too, bear.” Freddie kissed his cheek softly, lovingly._

 

* * *

 

_“Daddy, look at this!” Talulah took him to the slide, holding his hand tightly. “If you climb all these stairs then you can do the slide.”_

 

_Freddie looked daunted at the prospect of so many stairs with a hamstring strain; he was trying to find the words to let his daughter down gently when his husband came up behind him and swept him off his feet._

 

_Jim stood him up next to the slide and went to retrieve Reuben; Oliver and Talulah were quickly scrambling up to be with their father. “Somebody needs to be brave and go down the slide on their own.” Freddie said, looking over them. “Because Pop needs to carry Ru.”_

 

_“I can!” Talulah said resolutely. “I’m going to be a good swimmer, Daddy!”_

 

_“Sounds like a good plan.” He nodded and held a hand out for Oliver, who clambered into his lap._

 

_They went down in a cascade of cheers, squeals, sounds of excitement and love and happiness: Freddie swam to the other side of the pool with Oliver beside him, and then they both turned around to watch Talulah._

 

_She came hurtling down, plunging into the cool water, and Freddie saw a look of determination cross her face: she kicked her little legs furiously to swim over to her father, paddling her hands, and she looked delighted when she realised that she was moving all by herself._

 

_“There we go!” Freddie cheered, holding his arms out for her. “Come to Daddy, darling, see if you can swim to me.”_

 

_He hadn’t yet gotten to do first steps, but he’d take it as a close second; as she swam into his arms, he wrapped her in a hug and kissed her forehead. “My clever girl!” He praised._

 

_“I did it!” She said excitedly._

 

_“You did it!” Freddie peppered another kiss on her cheek. “My princess can do anything, can’t she?”_

 

* * *

 

Jim had decided that this light was his favourite he’d ever seen Freddie in. His husband had brought out an artistic side that he’d never known that he had: before Freddie, blues had been blues, greens green, pinks pink, reds red. Now, though, blues were cerulean, royal, sapphire, Egyptian, powder, baby; reds were garnet, scarlet, ruby, sanguine; greens were emerald or forest, pinks champagne or pointe shoe or blush or fuschia. 

 

The shadow under his nose was prussian; the highlight in the corner of his eye was cream; his lips were stained mahogany, only brought out by the lights in his face, the kissing, and the lipstick he’d insisted on wearing. 

 

Jim liked it, really, the waxen creaminess, the pop of colour, rude health; he liked the stares his husband got, the second glances that started at his lips and dragged down his torso, white t-shirt pulled tight over his chest. Sometimes Freddie was in the mood to play trophy, and Jim liked to show him off; he’d long ago gotten past the idea that Freddie was outside of his league, and now he liked to show off about his wonderful, talented, caring, gorgeous husband whenever he could.

 

“This place is incredible.” Freddie was almost out of breath from bashing the buttons on the pinball machine so hard, watching the little ball jump and stagger from flipper to flipper. “You had this as a kid?”

 

“We’d drink vodka neat and then come here. Sometimes people got into fights over how many balls you could play.” Jim wound his arms around his and rested his hands atop Freddie’s. “You need to aim it into the tunnel at the top right.”

 

“I know where to aim it.” Freddie chuckled. “I just can’t do it.”

 

“Watch and learn.” Jim kissed his cheek and Freddie pulled back a little to watch, spending more time watching Jim’s face - squinting one eye, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in that same habit he’d picked up poring over scores - than his hands.

 

“God, I love you.” Freddie said softly. “You know, today-”

 

He was interrupted by Jim cheering as he aimed it straight into the tunnel, the point score ticking higher and higher without him even touching the buttons. Freddie laughed and wound his arms around Jim’s neck, kissing him passionately in victory; Jim tasted beautiful, a little alcoholic, a little like candy, a little like sweat. 

 

Jim kissed back, hands resting on Freddie’s waist; he tasted of chewing gum and coffee, liquor and Christmas spice, just like home. He pulled away after a few minutes, a long while after the noise that told him his ball had fallen to its demise, and rested his forehead against Freddie’s. “You were going to say something.” He said softly.

 

“I was.” Freddie took his hands and clasped them tight. “Today’s been the best day in a very long time.”

 

Jim smiled and kissed him again. “I’m glad, darling.”

 

“Thank you.” Freddie whispered against his lips. “You make it feel like it’s worth fighting.”

 

Jim cupped his cheek and smiled even wider. “It’s always worth fighting.” He promised.

 

“It is. I would never have taken them swimming, or seen their first Christmas, or found out that you’re a monster on a pinball machine.” He started to laugh and wound his arms back around Jim, squeezing tight: he didn’t even try to stand on his toes, just let himself be swamped in his husband’s arms. “I love you.”

 

“And we wouldn’t have done any of those things if you hadn’t been here.” Jim held him close, cradling his head, and closed his eyes momentarily. “I love you too, darling. Thank you.”

 

 

 

END OF PART FOUR

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of part four! This fic is spiralling into something much larger than I was planning to tackle, but I feel as though we're having important conversations regarding mental health hospitalisation/medication/treatment/therapy - I hope that at some point, it has encouraged you to tackle how you feel, and to be positive in the decisions that you've made to look after yourself.


	61. Brace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The return to normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just boys in love, I won't lie to you!

PART FIVE

 

 

 

Freddie leaned into the mirror and powdered his face white, trying his best to ignore his shaking fingers; he smiled wryly down at them, at the glint of his wedding ring in the dim light of his dressing room. He clenched his hand in a fist and relaxed his fingers again, taking a long, slow breath, trying to channel his anxiety into excitement - he was here, he was back again, in the same room he’d had since he was nineteen: his years of pictures were on the walls, years of laughter and ice cream and midnight kisses, Freddie covered in flower petals at their wedding, Jim’s collar loosened in the heat of the June sunshine. He remembered that day so well, now, as though it were merely days ago: he remembered crying in his dressing room, afraid his husband wouldn’t come, consoled by the gentle hands and kind words of his sister; he remembered carefully powdering under his eyes to hide the redness; he remembered shakily stepping out into the room, and he remembered the smile that had burst out when Jim had been there, dressed in a red silk shirt, looking nervous and beautiful and gorgeous-

 

He squeaked as warm arms wound around his waist, but melted immediately as lips pressed against his pulse point. “Jim.” He sighed happily, clasping his hands over his husband’s. 

 

“That’s me.” He chuckled, pressing a few lazy kisses to his neck. “You’re so cold, baby.” 

 

“I am. I need to stretch out again.” He said shyly, running a hand up his arm and feeling the goosebumps rise. “Oh, what-”

 

“Shush.” Jim shucked off his suit jacket and draped it over Freddie’s shoulders. “Take this. I’ll keep you warm.”

 

Freddie glanced in the mirror, the picture of the both of them, and bit his lip to hide his smile. “I was thinking about our wedding.”

 

“Oh?” Jim asked sweetly. “What about?”

 

“I cried that morning.” Freddie whispered. “I thought you wouldn’t be there. I had absolutely convinced myself that you were going to stand me up at our own wedding, after we’d spent months planning it together, down to the colour of the fucking glitter. But you didn’t.” He caught his eyes in the mirror and smiled. “I love these photos.”

 

“You look so happy.” Jim leaned up and pulled one down from the ledge over the mirror. “I love this one. I love all the orchid petals.”

 

“The orchids were just gorgeous.” Freddie smiled shyly. “I’ve never felt more beautiful than I did in that moment. I knew that you really wanted me then, I knew you weren’t messing around, and it was- it was liberating.”

 

“Do you think about that now?” He asked, dropping one more kiss on his shoulder.

 

“Yeah. You’ve never taken the ring off, so I still feel wanted.” Freddie smiled up at him and twisted up to kiss him gently. “How ridiculous is it that I’m nervous to perform?”

 

“You haven’t been on stage in nearly four months, darling. I’d expect you to be nervous.” Jim chuckled. “But it’s the same stage, and the same cast, and the same orchestra. You’ve done this a thousand times before.”

 

Freddie rested his cheek against Jim’s shoulder and smiled. “It’s my home.”

 

“It is. It’s your home almost as much as our home is.” Jim chuckled.

 

“We need a company cat.” Freddie giggled and snuggled against him. “God, I love you so much.”

 

“I love you too.” Jim pulled back a little, just looking over his husband; his cheeks were pink with nervous excitement, his eyes were bright and alive in a way that he hadn’t seen in a long while, he looked young and beautiful, swamped in Jim’s suit jacket. “You haven’t worn my clothes in a long time.”

 

“You haven’t given them to me.” Freddie’s fingers came up to pull the jacket tighter around his shoulders and he smiled shyly. “Thank you for marrying me.”

 

“As if I ever wouldn’t have married you.” Jim leaned down to kiss him softly. “You know, sometimes I’m annoyed that I married you, because it means I can’t ever propose and marry you again. Sometimes I think about proposing to you on that shitty little outside sofa in the flat in Covent, and I wish I’d done something a bit more spectacular, you know? I would’ve loved to have made more of a song and dance about it, but I got so in my own head in case I did it wrong.”

 

“My whole life is a song and dance.” Freddie chuckled, standing up en pointe to kiss him again. “It was simple and homely and comforting. Every time I sat on that sofa to read or draw or sew or whatever, I thought about being proposed to, and it made me feel- I was so fucking happy, Jim.”

 

“I want to make you that happy every day.” Jim whispered.

 

“You do.” Freddie clasped his hands. “Look at me now compared to a few months ago. That bastard’s in prison for assault, our children are healthy and happy, and I- God, Jim, I can’t even imagine being there again. I can’t imagine ever wanting to- to- to do any of that, you know, I want to live as long as I can and I want to do all of it next to you because this-” He squeezed his hands and lifted them up a little. “This is where I’m supposed to be.”

 

Jim was quiet for a few moments, looking at their joined hands, and then he looked up at Freddie and smiled. “No one has hands as soft as yours.” He murmured. “I wouldn’t want to hold anyone else’s.”

 

* * *

 

Freddie hung the jacket on a peg backstage, still a little cold, and jumped a few times, first to second and second to first; his heart was beating hard in his chest as he waited to go on stage for the first time in four months. They’d spent two months in Ireland, and he’d spent a third undergoing rehab for his hamstring and easing himself back into training; these days, he was dancing nine until three, ready to perform a maximum of twice a week. His adrenaline was making his mind race as he listened to the orchestra, preparing himself to step back onto stage again: he stood back up en pointe and blew out a hard breath, using every technique he’d been taught in the last few months to control his anxiety.

 

He balanced on one foot and drew his other up to touch his thigh, his hands extending above his head; he’d been told that once he hadn’t been able to do this, to balance on one foot whilst en pointe, but now he could balance so beautifully, so elegantly, so effortlessly. It made him feel beautiful, almost ethereal, and in this new ballet he would be flying: he was the gorgeous one, the princess or the fairy, whatever he was in the mind of the audience.

 

He had worn shorts in the rehearsals, shorts and nothing else, getting used to being so exposed in front of the auditorium; now he wore a leotard, full-back, and his pointe shoes. He twisted in front of the mirror, looking at his legs, long and lean and smooth, and smiled shyly.

 

“Look at you.” Alex took his hand gently as he came down onto the flat of his foot again. “It’s nice to have you back. I think it would’ve been wrong to have anyone else for the premiere night.”

 

“Thanks.” Freddie smiled shyly. “It’s really nice of you to partner with me.”

 

“Are you joking? I chose you.” He smiled. “You’ve got an amazing way of moving. I watched you, you know, when you did The Prince and I was so jealous that I couldn’t dance with you.”

 

Freddie’s cheeks flushed pink and his smile brightened. “That’s so sweet.”

 

“I get to dance with the assoluta.” He chuckled. “Come on, now, or you’ll miss your cue.”

 

* * *

 

Jim watched the way he exploded onto the stage, the brightest, most incandescent presence on that stage, outshining every other person in the room with the easiest brisé Jim had ever seen; the room exploded into uproar, excitement, applause and laughter and exclamation. His name had been slipped into the middle of the programme, not too loud, quiet enough to go unnoticed, but his presence was the opposite - Freddie paused for a moment, laughed, almost overwhelmed by the love in the room, and then carefully slipped back into character.

 

Jim raised the music of the orchestra louder, matching his vivaciousness, his beauty, his energy and his passion: the burst of Freddie’s smile wasn’t the love for the man opposite him, but the man in the orchestra, the man who supported him in sound and in body, in mind and in soul. It seemed like only minutes before the end of the first act came and Freddie was running down the stairs into the orchestra pit, throwing himself in the arms of his husband-

 

The arms around him, lifting him as easily as he’d been thrown in the air earlier on; Freddie squealed as he was twirled around, toes pointing automatically. They both laughed as the toes of his right foot played a continuous glissando, one end of the keyboard to the other, and Freddie clasped his arms around his lover. “Did you hear the applause?” He asked excitedly.

 

“Hear it?” Jim laughed. “I was nearly deafened by the stamping in the orchestra stalls.”

 

Freddie blushed scarlet and ducked his face into Jim’s neck, hiding shyly. “They’re all so lovely.”

 

“Everyone’s so happy to have you back.” Jim said lovingly, setting him down on the piano stool and holding him against his chest. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too.” Freddie squeezed his arms around Jim’s neck and looked up, sweet and shy and beautiful, the picture of when they first met. “So much.”

 

* * *

 

Freddie carefully smoothed out Talulah’s leotard, smiling at the sight of his little ballerina all dressed in pink, blonde hair falling out of the ballet bun he’d tried his best to twist it back into: her outfit was immaculate, her tights and leotard all pressed to perfection, her shoes prepared with the drawstrings tied and cut professionally. Her hair, though, was a mess, no matter what he tried to do, no matter how much hairspray he used to try and smooth it out.

 

“You know, princess.” Freddie chuckled. “Pop might need to have a go at your hair.”

 

She blew a strand of hair from her face and arched an eyebrow. “I think so.”

 

Freddie laughed and raised his eyebrow back at her. “You’re a cheeky little thing.”

 

She burst into giggles and ran over to him, throwing her arms around him. “Fun Daddy is back!” 

 

He laughed and sat back on his heels, pulling his little girl close and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Yes I am, sweetheart.” He chuckled. “And I love you very much, okay?”

 

“Yes.” She whispered. “I love you too, Daddy.”

 

“Jim?” Freddie called, waiting a few moments to listen for footsteps. “Jim?”

 

Jim jogged up the stairs, wiping paint-stained hands on his sweatpants; he’d been drawing with Reuben and Oliver while they waited for Talulah to get ready. “Is everything okay, darling?” He asked, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe of the bedroom.

 

“I appear to struggle with ballet buns.” He looked up at his husband and smiled. “Help, please?”

 

Jim chuckled and sat down beside him, carefully unpinning Talulah’s bun and pulling a face when his hands came back sticky. “Did you use an entire can of hairspray?”

 

“Something like that.” Freddie laughed, watching him and rejoicing in the fullness of his heart. “I couldn’t get it to stay.”

 

“You have to twist it.” Jim brushed through her hair quickly and efficiently and gathered it in one hand, starting to twist the end of the ponytail with his other. “Twist it until it’s in a roll, and then wrap it around itself.”

 

“I knew I married a hairdresser for a reason.” Freddie smiled and drew his knees up to his chest, watching more the gentle expression on Jim’s face rather than the swiftness with which his fingers moved. 

 

“Talulah’s the only one who lets me do her hair.” Jim leaned down and kissed her cheek playfully. “There you go, princess. All done.”

 

“Thank you!” She ran over to the mirror and did the prettiest little curtsey as she watched herself, before she ran downstairs.

 

“Do you think she’ll be a dancer?” Jim asked curiously, standing up and holding out a hand for Freddie to take.

 

Freddie took his hand and let himself be pulled upright. “I think so.” He agreed. “She’s got a natural kind of fluidity and beauty that a lot of dancers have when they’re that small. I could certainly see her doing that if she wanted to put the work in.”

 

“I hope she does. She can carry your name through the company.” Jim smiled.

 

“Our name.” Freddie insisted, leaning up to peck his lips lightly. “She’ll carry our reputation.”

 

* * *

 

Freddie hummed softly as he washed the dishes slowly, methodically, zoning out and thinking about other things: he thought about love, he thought about happiness, and he thought, deeply and passionately, about how glad he was to have lived his past few days. He’d sent both his children to ballet class the day before, and he’d watched through the window as they’d run and jumped around to the music, tiny and excited and reminding him of all the reasons he’d started dancing in the first place.  _ Spin as fast as you can, run as far as you can, jump as high as you can -  _ they were the words of his childhood, and he loved them dearly.

 

Jim watched from the doorway, smiling at the sight of Freddie so calm, so relaxed, so domestic. At one point in his life, he’d feared that he might not have a husband for much longer, and his husband had seemed so far away when they’d spent all those nights apart in the hospital: he’d made secret plans of what to do if he lost him, how he’d cope, contingency plans so that he wouldn’t let his world crumble around him. Now, though, he’d lost the tension headaches, the deep set frown on his brow, the hunch in his shoulder; he didn’t have the sleepless nights, he didn’t have the four in the morning coffees, he didn’t have midnight tears to soothe with little children worried that their father had gone forever.

 

Because they were one, really, as much as Jim hated the phrase; they’d grown up together, they’d learned each other as well as they knew themselves, and they knew more easily how to live together than how to live apart. 

 

Jim wound his arms around his waist, not caring when his hands got soapy, and pressed a few kisses to the back of his neck. “It’s nice to have you in our kitchen.” Jim murmured.

 

“I’m always here.” Freddie turned around and smiled at him. “What’s gotten into you?”

 

Jim pulled his washing up gloves off and laid them out on the side, before pulling him closer. “I love you, sue me.”

 

“Never.” Freddie laughed and leaned up to kiss him, twisting his fingers in Jim’s hair.

 

Jim kissed him, long and sweet and slow, carefully backing him against the dining table; he laughed against his lips as Freddie jumped up to sit on the table, parting his legs for Jim to stand between. Jim pecked his lips again, smiled, and kissed him sweetly as Freddie’s arms wound around his neck, humming happily.

 

“I want you.” Jim murmured, pressing a couple of kisses to his neck; Freddie tilted his head back, welcoming, wanting, desiring.

 

“Yes.” He gasped as Jim pecked at his collarbone. “Let me just grab my leg brace.”

 

“Sexy.” Jim snorted, nipping again at his neck. “Topping from the bottom?”

 

“Oh, darling.” Freddie sighed playfully. “You know me too well.”


	62. Due

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Developing, healing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week is super busy but I'll be back to regular updates next week!

“Freddie!” Harvey smiled and held open the door for him when she saw him. “Oh, darling, I didn’t see that you were on my books for today!”

 

“Four o’clock on Tuesday, as always.” Freddie smiled and stood up, walking into her office. He loved it in there, how cozy it felt when she had the fire burning, how safe he felt in the small space, no hidden corners, nothing waiting to jump out at him. 

 

“Of course, of course. How are you, darling?” She asked, holding out a mug with a questioning look on her face. “Tea or coffee?”

 

“I’ll take tea, thank you.” Freddie sat in his usual chair and placed his bag down beside him. “This week has been really good.”

 

“Really good?” She asked, sounded delighted, and flicked the kettle on. “That’s wonderful, sweetheart, what’s made it so good?”

 

“I was back on stage yesterday night.” Freddie smiled. “And it was- it was wonderful, I got such lovely applause. I haven’t felt that happy since around Christmas time.”

 

“When are you on stage again? Tonight?” She asked curiously.

 

“Saturday. I’ve decided that I’m not going to dance more than twice a week when I’m dancing principal roles, because I’ve been putting my body under too much strain for years. I’m trying to take better care of myself.” He said softly. 

 

She smiled and poured him a mug of tea, handing it over before she sat opposite him. “I’m sure Jim’s thrilled about that.”

 

“It means we don’t have to rely on my parents as much when we’ve got shows together, they used to look after the kids five or six nights a week. And I- I’m going to have so much more time with my family, and I think that’ll be good for me. Because we’ve spent so much time together for the last four months, I think it’d feel a little like ripping off a safety blanket. And I think- I think of all coping mechanisms, they’re probably the best one I have.” He smiled and ducked his head down, suddenly feeling shy.

 

“Freddie, darling, they’re the best coping mechanism you could have. That’s what families are for, to celebrate the good days and help with the bad days. Even more than your art, even more than your music and your dancing, your family, talking and communicating, is the best thing that you can do.” Harvey couldn’t keep her smile from widening. “So, sweetheart, how has the rest of this week been? Any panic attacks, or trips to hospital, or anything?”

 

“I haven’t been in hospital since before Christmas.” Freddie said resolutely, a hint of pride in his voice. “I did- I did have a panic attack last Thursday, but Jim was out and it was just me and the kids and that was hard. I’m used to having him there to talk me down, and it was kind of a double fear that I wouldn’t come down quick enough and that the kids would find me. I hadn’t taken the benzos in a couple of days but I ended up taking two to see if it’d calm me down some.” He looked down at his fingers. “It took me about half an hour, in the end. With Jim, he can stop it in a couple of minutes. Olly came and found me just as I was straightening myself out, but that makes me feel guilty because a five-year-old knew to come and check that his father wasn’t- wasn’t half dead, or something.”

 

“What triggered it? What kind of thoughts were you having?” She asked gently.

 

“I had woken up anxious that day, and it was the first day that Jim was going out and leaving me with the kids. I’ve had support up until now, we were in Ireland for a while and then my sister or my parents or my friends or Jim’s brother came to help me out in case I- I needed a rest, or something happened. Most of the time it was me and Jim, but I just wasn’t used to having them on my own. And I wound myself up, I convinced myself that I was going to hurt them or pass out or neglect them and let them get hurt like- like the last time we were alone together, and Reuben got burned and his fingers were crushed and I left them half-starved because I couldn’t move.” His cheeks burned with shame. “And I couldn’t stop myself from panicking that something was going to happen.”

 

“And did anything happen?” Harvey questioned.

 

“No.” Freddie glanced up shyly. “No, I picked them up from school and we went home and made hot chocolate and then I had dinner on the table by the time Jim was home.”

 

“See, darling?” She smiled. “That just proves that you can do it. You controlled your anxiety, you looked after them without support, and you kept them healthy and happy and safe.”

 

“I panicked because of bath time. I couldn’t do it, I convinced myself that they were going to drown, so I had to wait until Jim got home. I think the attack was caused by a- a fear, I guess, of Jim being disappointed.” Freddie admitted.

 

“You don’t have to do everything all in one, darling. You can regain little parts of the routine a part at a time.” She said soothingly. “Jim’s so proud of you, you know. He’s proud that you’ve kicked through it and kept going even though you do have all the anxieties around the children.”

 

“I just want to be like I was back then. I was on a massive high, Jim always used to call me Superman. I think he doesn’t really see me that way anymore.” He hugged his knees, a little upset. “He doesn’t even refer to me as Daddy anymore. I think now he sees himself more as their carer now, and I’m like- like the inconvenient babysitter, or something.”

 

“Do you really believe that?” Harvey arched an eyebrow. “And it’s nothing to do with the fact that he’s trying not to trigger your anxiety by mentioning words that you respond to with fear? And nothing at all about not trying to put unnecessary expectations on you so that you don’t feel like he’s pressuring you to do too much at once?” Her voice was gentle, but it was decidedly firm, enough to make him reconsider without shrinking into himself.

 

“I hadn’t thought about it like that.” Freddie murmured. “I suppose- sometimes he knows my triggers better than I do.”

 

“He wants to look after you.” She said, far more gentle. “Try not to assume it’s something horrible, darling. Why don’t you talk to him about it?”

 

* * *

 

Jim was hunched over the piano in the empty auditorium, the long line of his back ragged and bumpy with each crease and fold of his shirt; he was surrounded by the swollen notes of music around him, the new products of his own fingers coming from nowhere, yet coming from a melody that had been building for so long, since his mind had had room for making music once again-

 

This melody, though, this melody was Freddie, rich and sumptuous and full; Jim was obsessed with the sound of it, the sound of his love for his husband. The better he got, the more space Jim had to be creative again, to think about his passions, and the more room he had to create without worry. 

 

He tipped his head back and let the music wash over him, his eyes closing: it felt as though his fingers knew exactly what he wanted to hear, richness and beauty that he was obsessed with. He’d always liked the finer things in life, and it was one of the reasons, he thought, that he’d fallen so easily in love with a ballet dancer: he loved silks and whiskies and satins, Bechstein pianos and Givenchy colognes, Moet champagne on plush mattresses. Freddie had always embodied everything he wanted to be, and everything he had become; he’d gone from wearing Bloch to Siberian Swan, cotton to satin, necessity to luxury. 

 

He himself, though, had moved from playing on plastic keyboards to a ridiculously indulgent Steinway that Freddie had bought him for his thirtieth birthday, which he had somehow had hauled up the stairs into their lounge in the middle of the night without either waking him or leaving any scuffs on the freshly painted walls.

 

“Jim?” Christopher stepped out onto the stage and walked forward, sitting himself on the edge of the stage with his feet hanging down into the orchestra pit.

 

His fingers faltered, snapping out of the trance, and he glanced upwards with an embarrassed smile on his face. “You caught me.” He laughed shyly, rubbing a hand through his hair. “Sorry, I lost track of time. Am I needed?”

 

“No, no, you’re still in your lunch break. I was just wondering who was playing.” He smiled. “I don’t think I’ve heard that one before.”

 

“Neither have I.” Jim looked down at his hands, shy and happy. “It’s new.”

 

“It’s beautiful.” Christopher said softly. “Is it for anything?”

 

“No. I’ve just written it because- well, it kind of wrote itself.” He chuckled. “It sounds a little like the one I played for Freddie at our wedding.”

 

Christopher smiled dreamily. “I’m getting married soon.” He announced.

 

“Are you?” He asked, sitting back. “I’m jealous.”

 

“You want to get married again?” He arched an eyebrow as he jumped down into the pit and showed him his ring. “Ross finally proposed. You and Freddie are invited, of course. You can pull the same stunt with the orchid petals that you did with yours.”

 

“Once you’re married, you’re married, and you don’t get married again. Unless you get divorced, obviously, but I’m not divorcing Freddie just to remarry him. It’s just- God, it’s so exciting, I wish I could propose again.” He chuckled. “Congratulations, by the way.”

 

“Thank you.” He smiled. “I was going to ask, actually, if you’d play our first dance. We’ve decided on the rose adage from act two.”

 

Jim chuckled. “That’s what happens when two dancers get married.”

 

“Oh, don’t you know it, darling.” He laughed. 

 

“Of course I will.” He smiled. “Children or no children?”

 

“If Oliver doesn’t cover me in glitter, I’ll be very disappointed.” Christopher grinned. “Though maybe you won’t want them at the reception when it gets a little boozy.”

 

* * *

 

It had taken Freddie a long time to associate the door closing, shoes being toed off, and keys landing in the dish as sounds to be excited by; very occasionally, it still triggered a panicked response. Sometimes, he still expected it to mean he was about to be hit, even when he hadn’t been hit in years, and he’d find himself tensing without meaning to-

 

“Pop!” He heard Oliver shout, and Jim laughed as he lifted his little boy high into the air. 

 

“Hello, darling!” He kissed the top of his head and then sat him on his hip, walking into the kitchen where Freddie had already flicked on the kettle. Freddie smiled as a warm arm wrapped around his waist and Jim kissed his temple; he sighed happily, body relaxing, and smiled up at him. “How’s Daddy doing this evening?”

 

Freddie couldn’t quite explain the soaring happiness that occupied his heart when he heard that word on Jim’s lips again: he turned toward him and squeezed him tight, hugging him with all the love in his heart. “Very good.” He smiled, the look inalienable from his face. “I’m excited.”

 

“Excited?” Jim asked curiously, running one hand up and down his back and chuckling when Oliver used his vantage point to kiss Freddie’s cheek. “What about, honey?”

 

“Kash’s baby is due this week. She phoned me and she was asking what she should pack in the overnight and baby bags, I had to point out to her that I don’t actually know what it’s like to give birth. I promised I’d go over and see her tomorrow.” Freddie’s smile was so warm, almost giddy with happiness. “She’s convinced she’s going to forget something in the baby bag.”

 

“You are a veteran.” Jim chuckled and carefully let go of him to make the tea, still balancing Oliver. “You’ll probably be a big comfort for her.”

 

Freddie looked up at him and smiled. “I’m excited and it’s not even my baby.”

 

“Oh, darling, I know you.” Jim chuckled. “You just want to snuggle a newborn, don’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you forget Kash was pregnant? Because I totally did!


	63. Onegin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe there's secrets there, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY LAPTOP IS ABOUT TO DIE AND I DON'T HAVE A CHARGER SORRY THIS IS SHORT I WOULD MAKE IT LONGER BUT THEN THERE WOULD BE NO CHAPTER I HOPE YOU LIKE THE PLOT TWIST I NEARLY MADE IT SAD AND THEN I WENT TO THE OPERA HOUSE THIS EVENING SO NOW YOU CAN ALL SHARE MY HAPPINESS

He tipped his head back and his hair showered down over his shoulder-blades; he caught his lip between his teeth and let out the sweetest little moan, still shuddering and trembling with his pleasure. Jim let his hand trail up his husband’s side as he sat on his lap, settling one hand on his hip and one on the back of his neck, trailing through his hair as their breathing slowed slowly, peacefully, happily.

 

Jim nudged his head up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips; they passed lazy, open-mouthed kisses back and forth, making Freddie smile. “I love you.” He murmured, nipping at Jim’s lower lip. 

 

“I love you too.” Jim pulled a blanket up over his shoulders and kept Freddie against his chest, peppering kisses over his shoulders. “I’ve missed doing this with you.”

 

“Getting your leg over?” Freddie joked sleepily, already halfway to dozing off. 

 

“Just- just being with you. Being intimate, just getting to love you.” Jim kissed his sleepy smile, unable to stop himself. “I like making you feel good, and I like feeling good.”

 

“Only you could make it sound romantic.” Freddie glanced up and kissed him again. 

 

“It is. I love you.” Jim repeated, carefully sitting up. “Come on, let’s go for a bath before you fall asleep.”

 

* * *

 

“I brought you coffee.” Freddie handed Harvey a cup, his cheeks pink with the delight of the good deed. “Vanilla macchiato.”

 

“What’s your order?” She asked curiously, taking her cup with gratitude.

 

“I like to change it up. I like masala chai, that’s what I’ve got today, but I also like Earl Grey and chamomile tea. I’ve pretty much stopped drinking coffee, it kept making me feel horribly anxious, and I’ve had more time to sleep and relax instead of just running on coffee like I used to.” He sat in his chair and crossed his legs, looking earnest and happy and open.

 

“You’re looking well.” She commented as he sipped his tea, smiling at the compliment.

 

“Does it show?” He asked, touching his cheek lightly. “God, I feel- I feel like I’m on a proper high this week. It’s like how I used to feel.”

 

“Good!” She said excitedly. “Tell me all about this week, darling, I want to hear all your achievements.”

 

“I- I-” His cheeks turned scarlet. “I don’t know if it’s weird to say, but I’ve- I’ve kind of got my sex drive back.” He said shyly. “Because Jim and I, we’ve always been pretty- pretty intimate, but I know you warned me that those tablets can turn you off a bit, and they definitely did for me. So we hadn’t been especially sexual for a few months, and now, I just- I find that I want him again, and I feel as though that makes me feel less- less broken, I suppose. Because I’ve always enjoyed sex with him, and it’s like a part of the old me that I’ve gotten back.”

 

“It’s not weird at all, darling. It’s one of the healthiest things that you can find enjoyment for again, so long as it doesn’t go too far the other way.” She smiled. “What else has happened this week?”

 

Freddie thought contemplatively for a moment, tapping his fingers lightly on his armchair. “Jim wrote a song for me. I taught him to play piano backwards so that he can play it in bed like I can.” He grinned. “Oliver’s been back at ballet, and Talulah’s going with him now. I’ve been up on stage a couple of times and I’m getting back into it.”

 

“All good, positive steps forward.” She nodded. “How have you been mentally?”

 

“A bit less anxious. I think I’m getting back to all of it, to being with the family again. I think I’m starting to feel less anxious with the children, too, I’m less frightened of hurting them now. I was convinced at one point that I’d hurt them just by being in the same room as them, but I’ve realised that it was an ungrounded fear because I wasn’t the one who hurt them, and I did everything I could to keep them safe.” He smiled. “I bathed them by myself the other day, and it felt like the old times, and when Jim came home I felt really proud of myself.” He laughed shyly.

 

“Good!” She said excitedly. “Oh, darling, that’s leaps and bounds from where you were before. Did you get a chance to talk to Jim about what we spoke about last time?”

 

“No.” He bit his lip shyly. “But Jim, he- he started calling me those names again. Saying I was a brilliant father, those kinds of things. So I think my fear was unwarranted.”

 

“I told you.” She smiled and sipped her coffee. “Have you thought about doing something nice for Valentine’s Day?”

 

“I want to get him something nice, but I can’t think of anything.” Freddie bit his lip shyly. “I went a bit crazy on his birthday, but now I can’t think of anything to get him for Valentine’s and he’s always so good with presents.”

 

“Presents don’t always have to be expensive luxuries, Freddie. Why not make him something special?” She suggested.

 

“Make him something? What could I make him?” He asked. “I’m not good at making things.”

 

“I don’t believe you. You’re an artist.” She smiled. “What about some kind of portrait? You told Anna about the one you did of the children in your lounge.”

 

Freddie tucked his knees up to his chest and thought for a few seconds. “I could paint him a picture.”

 

“I think he’d prefer that to anything expensive. He strikes me as the kind of man who appreciates things from the heart more than the wallet.” She said gently. “What could you paint him?”

 

“I think I know something he’d like.” Freddie lit up, suddenly excited. “It’s a secret. I’ll show you when it’s done.”

 

* * *

 

Jim hadn’t seen him in overalls since they’d decorated the house back in July; he had an old pair, a little small, stained with acrylics and oil paints and the porcelain white that he’d painted the walls. He was sat in the lounge, the children painting with him, as he painstakingly sketched out an outline on a new piece of canvas; Jim watched curiously as he pulled off his jacket and threw it over the arm of the sofa.

 

“Looking good.” He commented, glancing over Freddie’s shoulder; he yelped, suddenly aware that Jim was behind him, and turned over the canvas as quick as he could. “What?” Jim laughed.

 

“It’s a work in progress.” Freddie’s cheeks pinkened, and Jim immediately knew that whatever it was, it was for him. “I’ve barely even started it.”

 

“Can’t I watch?” He asked hopefully, sitting beside him.

 

“It’s a secret.” A playful smile crossed his lips and he laughed a little, soft and shy and sweet. 

 

“Oh is it, indeed?” Jim wound his arms around Freddie and pulled him into his chest, laughing. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too.” Freddie looked up at him and turned over in his arms so they were nose to nose, and kissed him sweetly. “You’re perfect.”

 

“Says you.” Jim chuckled. “How have you spent your afternoon?”

 

“We made biscuits.” Talulah said, her mouth still crammed with a cookie. “Sugar cookies!”

 

“Oh, Daddy’s secret recipe? Those are my favourites.” Jim kissed Freddie’s temple. “Daddy is a very good baker.”

 

“Daddy made me chocolate drops.” Oliver showed Jim tiny sugar cookies smothered in chocolate, his favourite thing in the whole world. “They’re yummy.”

 

“Daddy has been spoiling all of you.” Jim ran his fingers back and forth over Freddie’s arms and chuckled. “How is he going to spoil me?”

 

“Kisses?” Freddie glanced up at him and smiled.

 

“Sounds perfect.” He cupped Freddie’s cheek and kissed him softly, slowly, lovingly.

 

* * *

 

The painting was Freddie in an arabesque, white tights and blue split-soles, blue cropped vest; he was lit strategically, the warmth of the glow from the fridge painting every highlight on the sharps of his face. It was easy to see, he thought, that Freddie was very young, eighteen going on nineteen, playful and small: the hands of his lover were on his waist, his fingers extending to reach the cartoon of milk in the fridge, lithe and elegant and beautiful.

 

It was what had happened years ago, their first night together, having been all wrapped up in blankets, making tea and dancing playfully around the kitchen in their pajamas. Before Jim had ever known who he was, what he did, he had learned that Freddie would pirouette to reach things just out of his grasp, that he was capable of elegance. 

 

Freddie treasured that moment, the first night he’d ever felt truly loved, truly safe, as though he could’ve flown: he wasn’t tethered to the earth, he wasn’t held down by hands stronger than his own, but instead he was lifted up by them. 

 

It seemed like the best thing to immortalise their love together, their life together, the first moment of joy together: it was the first time that Freddie had understood what love truly was. It was the first time he’d ever had hands to love him gently, to cradle him sweetly, hands that cared for him when he was sleepy and silly and he’d let his guard down; it was the first time that he had been able to fall asleep, somehow knowing he’d be okay when he woke up in the morning.

 

Jim sometimes hummed Swan Lake, a remnant of that first night together, the music that had put a spring in his step enough to have him dancing down the hallways of a man he barely even knew; he knew that the moment meant as much to Jim as it did to him. 

 

Freddie put his paintbrush down, his eyes tired, and carefully hid the canvas behind a curtain in his studio: his ideas were big, his ambition bigger, and his heart even bigger than that. 

 

* * *

 

“You’ve such a lovely line, darling.” Olga sighed happily, adjusting the angle of Jim’s right arm ever-so-slightly. “It’s such a shame you won’t let me cast you. You’d make a lovely Gremin.”

 

“And imagine the conversation I’d have to have with Freddie.” He came out of the arabesque and arched an eyebrow at her. 

 

“He dances Eugene, he wouldn’t even mind. If I know one thing about Freddie Hutton, it’s that he’d be crazily excited if he knew.” She insisted.

 

“Maybe.” Jim didn’t sound convinced. “Or maybe one day I’ll sweep him off his feet and follow it with a grand jeté and maybe then he’d understand why I know all the jargon so well.”


	64. Satin and Canvas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all comes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listening to love songs in the snow evoked this; I'm glad you liked the plot twist!

Freddie had never run home in half an hour before, but his heart was soaring high and his body was fuelled by energy, excitement, childish glee and joy and a complete, all-encompassing desire to make it back to his husband as fast as he could, to know if it was true, to know if all of his dreams were coming true. It’d been lucky that he’d been lacing his trainers when he got the news, or else he would’ve run the whole way in his split-soles, would’ve pounded every stone path in Hyde Park, the concrete down by the Serpentine, the soft grass through Kensington Gardens in nothing more than canvas thinner than the socks he was wearing now. 

 

He’d almost been distracted by the beauty of the swans on the lake, his footsteps faltering in the pace he’d set as he watched the flickering of the sunlight on the gentle lapping of the waves. He’d watched the birds, graceful, beautiful; his mind had darted to when he had danced the White Swan, as sweet and gorgeous as those birds himself, long-legged and glittering under stage lights; from there, he’d thought of dancing, dancing, Jim, Jim, Jim-

 

His fingers trembled as he shoved his key in the lock, out-of-breath and sweating from the heat of the midday sunshine; he burst in, dropped his keys on the floor, and ran straight downstairs into Jim’s studio. “Is it true?” He asked quickly, stumbling over his words. He leaned down, palms to thighs, but he couldn’t stop himself from glancing back up through the damp ends of his hair to see his reaction.

 

Jim’s fingers froze above the keys, his moment of peace coming abruptly to an end: he surveyed Freddie for a moment, his bright eyes, alive with childlike excitement and love. “Freddie?” He asked with a chuckle, standing up and going over to his lover. 

 

“Is it true?” Freddie asked again, holding tight to Jim’s shoulders. 

 

“Is what true?” He questioned gently, cupping Freddie’s cheek.

 

One of Freddie’s hands grabbed ahold of Jim’s wrist and Jim could feel his lover shaking slightly. “Are you dancing in The Cellist?” His voice was barely a whisper, and he was so excited he could barely speak.

 

Jim’s smile was shy, sweet, and Freddie’s heart soared when he realised what it meant. “I guess the secret’s out.”

 

“Oh my God!” Freddie threw his arms around his husband, every one of his wildest dreams coming true in that moment. “Since when? How can you- have you always-”

 

“Hey-” Jim laughed, pressing a kiss to Freddie’s forehead. “It’s a long story.”

 

“You have to tell me.” Freddie said, voice so gentle and so earnest. 

 

Jim sat back in his chair and Freddie immediately followed him, sitting himself in his lap. “I started at about the same age as you. I might’ve been five.” He shrugged. “And I really struggled with school, and I had horrible low self esteem and so Charlotte started me up with music and ballet to see if I’d be good at anything that wasn’t academic. So I danced four days a week from the age of six to sixteen, and I played the cello and the violin and the piano every day, and then I decided I was going to become a musician so I stopped dancing so regularly. Then I moved to England and went to university to study music, but I always had half an eye on the ballet just to watch what was happening.”

 

Freddie leaned forward and listened to his lover so intently, never interrupting. “So you were just like me?” He whispered.

 

“Yeah.” He smiled. “And then a few years ago, Olga was telling me that she was going to start teaching these classes to amateurs. It was back when you had that shoulder injury in seventy one, she thought you might want to teach some of the classes to stop you going out of your mind with boredom, but then I ended up going to her classes to dance instead.”

 

“So you’ve been dancing for five years?” Freddie murmured. “When?”

 

“After work. I’ve been finishing at three and dancing half three until half five, five days a week.” He bit his lip shyly. “She’s always been telling me to go professional, but I didn’t want to step on your toes.”

 

“How many times have I told you not to worry about me?” Freddie’s voice was soft and dreamy, loving and gentle. “You’ve danced five days a week for five years and you’ve never complained about your legs being sore?”

 

“It’s only ten hours a week. It’s less than you were doing in a day around that time.” Jim chuckled. “I don’t do anything especially strenuous.”

 

“I’ve seen the choreography for the conductor.” Freddie enthused. “Jim, it’s beautiful, it’s so- it’s so gorgeous, it’s so fluid, you’ll look so incredible.”

 

“You’re my cellist, aren’t you?” Jim pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and smiled widely. “Even if I might step down before debut.”

 

“You can’t!” Freddie grasped his hands. “Everyone wants to buckle before debut, but you can’t. I have to- I have to get to dance with you.” He faltered for a moment. “I can’t believe I even get to say that.”

 

“It’s crazy.” Jim squeezed his hand and smiled. “You’re not angry?”

 

“God, no.” Freddie breathed. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too.” He grinned. “You know, I can’t do half of what you can, I never learned to stand en pointe, but apparently I do have a lovely line.”

 

“I want to watch you.” He whispered. “Please.”

 

* * *

 

Freddie understood, in that moment, exactly why Jim would watch him. He understood the look on his face, aghast, the gentle parting of the lips and the soft wonder in his eyes; he had always thrived off of the attention, knowing he was watched, knowing he was admired and loved.

 

He had never felt like this watching another dancer before.

 

He wasn’t blind; he’d watched appreciatively as his lover had leaned out over the past few months. He’d noticed the hard swell of the muscle against his cheek, and he’d enjoyed the tightness of his stomach under his fingers: it seemed to embody everything he loved about men, the power, the beauty of chiselled forms carved like Grecian busts. 

 

He’d attributed it to more time spent in the gym over their holiday, both of them moving leisurely as Freddie learned to enjoy it for the sake of the way it made him feel instead of the pressure of performance. He’d assumed he was eating well, having been eating much the same as Freddie had: he had never assumed, in a thousand years, his reason for never complaining about how dull his diet was.

 

“Isn’t he fabulous?” Olga sat beside him and smiled. “Your wonderful conductor?”

 

“I can’t believe he can dance like that.” Freddie whispered. “All this time, he’s been this- this talented, this beautiful, and he never even told me.”

 

“He’s been very shy about it.” Olga smiled. “He’s the perfect partner for you, too, he’s only a little taller than you, and he’s about the same shape and size. Your bodies will complement each other perfectly.”

 

“I’m almost nervous to dance with him.” Freddie chuckled. “I’ve had so many partners over the years, but I don’t think dancing with any of them will be like dancing with him. I almost- I don’t want to stand in front of him, I don’t want to block him, I want everyone to see him.”

 

“You’ve silently nurtured a love for ballet in him without even knowing it.” She smiled. “You should’ve seen him, he was so worried the first time he came to me and told me, but it was almost like he couldn’t imagine not dancing after watching you for so long.”

 

Jim came over to where Freddie was sat on the floor, his pointe shoes half tied, ribbons still hanging loose, and held out a hand for him. “Are you dancing with me, or not?”

 

“You’re distracting me.” Freddie stood up shyly, taking his hand. “I haven’t tied my shoes.”

 

“I can see that.” He chuckled. “Come on, baby, limited time.”

 

“You’ve always been allowed to stare at me.” Freddie pouted playfully, leaning down to finish tying the ribbons around his ankles. He stood up and quickly went en pointe, jumping in surprise when his husband’s hands held softly onto his waist. “God, I’m not used to this.”

 

“Hey, it’s only me.” Jim kissed his shoulder softly. “I know this is strange, but it’s only me, darling.”

 

Freddie took a soft breath and turned in his lover’s arms, hugging him gently. “I still can’t get my head around the fact that it’s you.” He smiled bashfully. “It’s like- it’s like you’re a figment of my imagination, like something I’ve been dreaming of.”

 

“I know it’s a surprise.” Jim held him, soft and light, and smiled. “But it’s exciting, right?”

 

“So exciting.” Freddie grinned, his eyes alive. “Okay, okay, come on, dance with me.”

 

Olga watched them together, a smile inalienable from her face; watching Freddie was like watching a member of her family, somebody she cared so deeply about. After spending her life without children, trying to promise herself that it was fine, she didn’t mind watching her friends grow up with what she’d always wanted herself, meeting Freddie at the age of seventeen was like meeting a child that was hers, should’ve been hers. She’d always felt bereft that he’d been so badly treated, that there had been nothing she could do for him: if she’d been his mother, she would’ve done everything that she could to keep him safe.

 

She had loved watching him grow, watching him love, watching his family growing with children that considered her their grandmother; she loved the evenings, though they were fewer now that he was a father, where they would drink tea in her studio before performances, where he would talk in a way that he never could to his own mother. 

 

Loving dance, passionate ballet, was a thousand times better than most of what she worked on, dances between two close friends that could never emulate the feelings of true romance.

 

This, though, was beautiful; the way they touched each other, the way they held one another, supported one another, lifted one another - it screamed, shouted, whispered, murmured romance, love, adoration. 

 

Freddie stretched out, every nook of his body perfectly supported by the gentle hands of his lover; when he twisted up to kiss him, it wasn’t with the shyness that he kissed other dancers, forever mindful of Jim, forever faithful.

 

“Boys, this is beautiful.” She smiled. “Jim, darling, a little more leg. Freddie, a little more- a little more, you know?”

 

He laughed a little and arched his back further, knowing he was beautiful, knowing how good he looked in his husband’s arms; it was oddly intimate, being there, letting everyone see what they usually did in private.

 

And Jim, Jim was soaring with the feeling of his lover there, so close, so close, so warm and beautiful, giving himself over so easily. He trusted Jim to support him, to look after him, just as he trusted those others who had trained for years alongside him; he saw no distinction, only talent, only love.

 

* * *

 

Freddie was half asleep on the sofa, baby against his chest; though Reuben was half awake, he was quiet, enjoying the warm, safe feeling of his father’s chest. Freddie lay against Jim, who had a sleeping Talulah against his other side; he threaded his fingers mindlessly through Freddie’s hair, back and forth, back and forth, gentle and loving. 

 

“You’re really beautiful.” He said mindlessly, snuggling against Freddie and winding an arm around his waist. “Olga, today, you should’ve seen how much she loved your dancing.”

 

“She’s seen it a thousand times, darling, it’s you that she’s enthralled by. She can’t believe that you’re finally willing to go onstage.” Freddie yawned and turned into Jim’s chest; Jim could barely take how beautiful he looked, sleep-mussed and messy, dark eyelashes barely open, just fluttering a little as he snuggled himself down. 

 

“You’ll fall asleep here if you’re not careful.” Jim teased, playful, and Freddie’s smile was warm and beautiful. He hugged Reuben to his chest, like a child with a teddy bear, making the baby giggle, and nuzzled his nose against Jim’s chest.

 

“I don’t mind.” Freddie murmured, closing his eyes, and he pressed a lazy kiss to Reuben’s head. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too.” Jim chuckled. “Beautiful boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: the word beautiful is mentioned nine times in this chapter alone!


	65. Coda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He listens, and he watches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a longer AN from me - firstly, I want to apologise for how short this chapter is after I've kept you waiting for so long. You'll notice that I've temporarily put a lot of my fics on hiatus, and my updates on this have decreased in their frequency - this isn't something I want to do (I want everything to be back up to 3/4 times a week frequency across more fics - especially Sobranie and Indulgence) but it's something that I've had to do. My mental health is really poor at the moment: I do the majority of my writing in the evenings, but I've spent a lot of evenings being too upset to write happy chapters and unable to get myself into the headspace I usually have when I write. If I'm not upset, then I'm often feeling exhausted instead, and so I haven't had the energy to write (hence short chapters and poor upload frequency). On top of all of that, I've had to take more hours at my job to make ends meet after my rent went up dramatically, and I work until 8 in the evening and work an hour away from where I live, so I'm not left with much time in the evenings. Hopefully, when I'm feeling better we'll get back to where we were before, but until then, I just wanted to apologise - I feel terrible because I know how excited you all were for Sobranie, and you're always taking time out of your days to read and appreciate the worlds I've created - I'm sorry I can't continue to make them for you. Please hang in there for me- I'm trying my best.
> 
> On a more positive note, if you want music to accompany this chapter, then try Ezio Bosso's 'Violin Concerto No. 1 "EsoConcerto": I. Allegro Molto' - that's what I'm imagining he's conducting :)

There was some quality about him that had changed, something mellifluous, fluid, gorgeous, some element of grace that possessed him even when he was stood here, ready, poised, baton in one hand and eyes on the bows of the violinist and cellist, the whole damn orchestra waiting for his movement, breath bated.

 

He lifted it slowly, watching his own hand as if with awe; it was as though he was understanding, for the first time, the power he had in this world, in this organisation. A cellist, a violinist, a pianist, a conductor, a dancer: there was nothing he couldn’t do, couldn’t understand, couldn’t connect with. It was as though something had linked in his mind, a sudden understanding of where he needed to land emphases. He’d listened time after time as Freddie had chastised him for emphasising the notes between moves, when the music hadn’t spoken to the dance that was performed alongside it - suddenly, he understood exactly where to pause, where to emphasise, what spoke itself and what needed dance to illuminate it.

 

His eyes were bright and alive as he slowly lowered his baton again. “You’re lovely and technical.” He announced; his voice almost didn’t sound his own, so fluid, so calm, faraway in that same way as Freddie’s sounded when he’d slipped into the mindset of a sixteen-year-old prince with his first love or a twenty-two-year-old cellist known for miles around for her talent with a bow. “But I want- I want heart. Make me shiver.”

 

Freddie glanced in through the window of their practice space, watching with awe the control that Jim had over every violin, viola, cello, the double bass; he watched his husband’s head tilt back as the music overwhelmed the room, flowing from the beauty of his first violinist to the whole orchestra with the delicate curl of a finger.

 

Jim was in Heaven; his breath was in his throat, his eyes were closed, the music built and swept over him in waves that he controlled so succinctly with his hands, right down to the pads of his fingers and the marriage and love lines on his palms. He knew at some point he’d lost the baton when the music had crescendoed, when he’d become nothing more than a vehicle to keep them going, keep the music going, flowing and slowing and glowing with the pure magic in his hands-

 

“More!” He shouted, moving his hands wider, spreading his fingers in an exaggerated pop.

 

He closed his fist tightly when they quieted. “This is all about you.” He turned to the cellist. “Your power. Your music. Don’t just play it.” He closed his eyes again. “Feel it, like-”

 

The orchestra timed in perfectly and he couldn’t help his smile; he bit his lower lip as he listened to them, the dramatic slide of the notes, so apprehensive, sounding almost worried, and yet so joyful simultaneously- they were her, they were him, they were Freddie-

 

“Take it down.” He said breathlessly. “Gentle, beautiful, I want-” He watched the cellist and smiled again. “Not too much, not yet. Take your moment. Don’t build so quickly- not too much!” He turned to the violinists. “Come in, come in, build, and then-”

 

The lone violin was so gentle, so beautiful, he couldn’t help his smile. “Let them think it’s the end.” He smiled. “Play it as though it’s the coda. Let them think they’ve heard the best already, that you’re toning down-”

 

“Now!” He shouted, the orchestra exploding into life. “You’re an alarm, your refrain is an alarm, I want you to scare me, I want to know that everything’s about to go wrong, we’re on the brink, everything’s crashing-”

 

Freddie placed a palm to the door, enthralled by the power in his husband’s hands; the music sent his adrenaline up, his heart to his throat, feeling everything he was supposed to feel.

 

The music dissipated, and Jim’s eyes came open slowly; his hair stuck to his brow with sweat, he was out of breath, and he looked so alive and so beautiful that Freddie could barely take a courteous glance at the cellist. He was certain, now, that his husband was who he was supposed to be- he belonged at the head of an orchestra, making such beautiful sounds just with his hands, with those words, building emotion that Freddie could never with dance alone.

 

* * *

 

Talulah sat at Jim’s feet, scribbling on Freddie’s shoes; they were in the studio at the Opera House, snuggled together, and Freddie had had to bring them back because they’d had a half-day at school that Friday. “Sorry, boys, sorry.” Olga came into the room, looking a little flustered. “Oh, I didn’t know we had company!”

 

“We forgot they had a half-day.” Jim chuckled, rubbing Freddie’s back where he was laying against him. “Otherwise we would’ve sorted out someone to look after them.”

 

“I had to run to get there on time.” Freddie smiled and rested his head against Jim’s chest. “I thought you wouldn’t mind having them around for a couple of hours.”

 

“Oh, no, of course not!” She agreed. “I mean, you can have the rest of the day off if you’d like to. I’m very happy with this dance as it is.”

 

“I want to see Daddy dance!” Talulah looked up. “Please?”

 

“Who’s Daddy dancing with?” Oliver asked, glancing up from his colouring book and smiling when he saw Olga. 

 

Freddie looked up at Jim and smiled a little. “Me, darling.” Jim said, grinning to himself. 

 

Both children looked up immediately; Oliver’s eyes went wide. “What?” He asked loudly.

 

“We’re dancing together.” Freddie announced, smiling as though it hadn’t been a revelation for him too. 

 

“Pop can’t dance.” Talulah frowned. “Can you dance?” She asked him.

 

“Yes, baby. I learned to dance just like your daddy when I was little.” He rubbed Freddie’s waist softly. 

 

“Like me?” Oliver asked curiously.

 

“Did you know the little ones are going to ballet now?” Freddie asked Olga as the children pounced on Jim, chattering excitedly about the news. He stood up and stretched out, listening to the angry click of his back, and then smiled. “They’ve been to about ten classes now.”

 

“How are they doing?” She asked curiously, watching them as they showered Jim in kisses and questions.

 

“You should see Oliver.” Freddie lowered his voice and watched them. “He’s- he’s really got something about him. He already holds himself right, he’s- he’s so beautiful, he’s really graceful. I took him to get his first shoes the other work and he showed me a little plié, I think I nearly cried.”

 

“Dance!” Oliver ran over to Freddie and tugged on his tights, looking so little and so excited. “Please, Daddy, please!”

 

Jim held out his hand for Freddie, approaching him with a shy smile on his face. “Come on, Daddy, dance with me.”

 

Freddie’s cheeks pinkened and he took Jim’s hand. “Where are we going from?”

 

“I want to go from the bit where I see you for the first time.” Jim smiled. “It’s my favourite part of this whole damn ballet.”

 

Freddie laughed softly and wrapped his arms around his lover’s neck, giving him a gentle peck on the lips. “You’re so sweet.” He whispered. “Okay, okay, let’s go from there.”

 

Oliver sat on the floor and hugged his knees, watching his fathers with awe. Though he was little, though he didn’t really know what he was watching, he knew that his Daddy looked different dancing with his Pop than he looked dancing with any other man in the whole wide world; he smiled much more, his cheeks were much more pink, and Oliver thought that his eyes looked special whenever Pop grabbed his waist. His Daddy looked happy, and he wanted him to be that happy forever and ever and ever; he’d hated his Daddy being sick, being away from all of them, and he’d hated the sound of his tears when he’d told them that he was sick. 

 

But now, watching the way he squealed as he was lifted high above Jim’s head, the way he laughed so beautifully and so openly, Oliver was certain that everything was getting better.


	66. Stage Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moments before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These next few chapters might be a bit shorter - they're just what I'm able to write at the moment :)

Freddie crawled over Jim, pinning his lover playfully to the bed; Jim laughed and leaned up to kiss him, getting lost in the feeling of the familiar plumpness of his lips, the soft little noises he let out as Jim tugged on his lower lip with his teeth. “Jim.” He murmured, shivering as his hands gripped his waist hard.

 

“I love you.” He kissed down Freddie’s neck, delighting in the little moans he got every time he nipped the delicate skin. “So fucking much.”

 

Freddie tipped his head back and gripped Jim’s shoulders as he repositioned them both; Freddie sat heavily in his lap, so happy to give himself, his body, up to his lover. “I love you too.” He murmured, biting his lip hard. “I love you, I love you.”

 

“You’ve changed my whole life.” He whispered, leaning up to kiss him harder. “I was- I was thinking, you know, about when we met-” He broke off to kiss him again, making Freddie smile into the kiss. “And this whole time, I’ve never really known who I am except your lover and the father of our children, I’ve always felt so young, I’ve always- I’ve learned, you know, I’ve spent years learning you and everything about you, but everything about me, too. And when- when we dance together, I just know that’s where I’m supposed to be, what I’m supposed to be doing, I’ve never been this happy.”

 

“You’re so fucking romantic.” Freddie rested his forehead against Jim’s and was quiet for a few moments. “You were just a kid, though, really. So was I.”

 

“And somehow in the jumble of everything this ended up becoming our life.” Jim whispered. “I’m so fucking lucky, I can’t- I’ve had opportunities that other people can only dream of, I got out of that rut of casual sex when I was so young, I wouldn’t want it any other way. We were so fucking young when we met, and I- I’m so thankful, because I get to spend so many more years watching you grow and watching you laugh and watching you heal than if we’d met later. I get to see how you’ve changed and how your tastes have changed and I get to watch your determination and your hard work pay off, I don’t just see the end result of it all, and it makes me so fucking proud to be your husband.”

 

“I’m proud to be yours. When I’m backstage, you know, I watch you in the pit, I tell everybody that you’re my husband, the conductor. People laugh at me because everybody knows who you are, and who I am, but it’s like I can’t stop doing it.”

 

“I love you.” Jim cupped his cheek and kissed him again. “The only thing I regret in life is not marrying you sooner.”

 

Freddie’s cheeks went scarlet and he grinned. “You’re fucking perfect.”

 

“I adore you.” Jim replied. 

 

“You’re making me feel bad.” Freddie laughed, soft and shy. “I was thinking about getting a blowjob and you were having a spiritual revelation.”

 

Jim laughed and pushed him off onto the bed next to him, pressing kisses to his neck. “It’s lucky you have such a loving, caring, adoring husband who’s happy to cater to your every need.” He said playfully.

 

“I am indeed.” Freddie pulled off his shirt excitedly and Jim pressed a row of kisses down his chest, winking as he did. “So fucking lucky.” He whispered.

 

* * *

 

“I love sharing my dressing room.” Freddie glanced in the mirror at his husband, who was sat at the dressing table parallel to his own. “I think the saddest thing for me was when I stopped being a soloist, I got my own dressing room, but it’s always been too quiet. Most of the time I still go and get ready with the others.”

 

Jim’s smile was quiet and nervous. “It’s nice to be able to share with you. I think I’d feel weird about sharing with some of the other guys, I feel like I’ve known them too long. I feel like everyone still thinks I’m a kind of imposter.”

 

“Oh, shush, you.” Freddie waltzed up behind him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You’ve as much right to the stage as I do.”

 

“I’m just- I’m not conventional. I didn’t do White Lodge and Upper School and starting in the corps, all that. Even you did Upper School, to soloist, to first soloist.” He said quietly. “I just kind of sprung up from nowhere.”

 

“Do you want to be conventional?” Freddie stood up en pointe to reach an energy bar off the shelf, and then came back down with a clatter. “Oh, fuck!”

 

“What?” Jim sprung up. “Are you alright?”

 

“It’s fucking typical.” Freddie said exasperatedly; Jim watched as he undid the ribbon, horrified when he saw blood soaking through the front of his shoe.

 

“Freddie, what happened?” He asked worriedly, holding onto his waist with the vague premise of helping him. 

 

“I’ve had this blister for like two weeks.” He sat on Jim’s desk and kicked off the shoe, pulling back his tights. “And it decides that now is the best time to burst.”

 

“Christ, you had me thinking that you’d broken your toe or something.” He said, relieved. “Ribbon and second skin?”

 

“You know it.” Freddie grabbed a bowl from their dinner from the table and put it on the floor, and then grabbed his water bottle. He started pouring water over his foot to clean it, swearing at the sting of it. “I’ve been doing this for twenty years and it still stings. I want a refund on my own feet.”

 

Jim chuckled and sat on the floor in front of him, gently patting it dry once it was clean. He disinfected it, covered it in a piece of second skin, and wound a piece of the ribbon around it to hold it in place; he had always loved doing this, strangely, though Freddie had refused to let him at first. “How’s that?”

 

“Much better. You’ve got a magic touch.” Freddie smiled. “God, my feet are fucking disgusting.”

 

“I won’t like to you, darling, they are.” Jim glanced up at him and chuckled, planting a kiss directly to the top of his foot. “But I don’t mind.”

 

“I wouldn’t go that close to my own feet.” He laughed and pointed his foot. “Point your toes for me.”

 

“Why?” Jim chuckled, but he obediently pointed the toes of his right foot. 

 

“How did I not notice that you could do that?” Freddie asked, watching as his toes touched the floor, the harsh arch of his foot. “That’s beautiful.”

 

“Thank you.” Jim smiled, cheeks pinkening. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too.” Freddie pulled his blood-stained tights back over his foot and grabbed a new shoe from the shelf, tying it up quickly. “There we go. Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

“I can’t.” Jim whispered, suddenly struck with horror as he listened to the swell of the orchestra. “I can’t, I can’t, this was a stupid idea, I- I’m not a dancer, Freddie, I can’t.”

 

Part of their love was knowing one another; part of their love was knowing exactly when to be soft, and when to be firm. “Are you serious?” Freddie asked.

 

“I can’t.” He said again, more urgently. “I’ll fuck it up.”

 

“Hey-” Freddie caught his shoulder. “It’s me, it’s the dance we’ve done a hundred times. You know it better than anyone else in this damn company.” He thought for a moment. “The thing is, most people that watch ballet don’t know shit about ballet. If you- if you get halfway through a jeté, and then you cop out, you get write-ups about how artful the act of disruption is as a part of the narrative. You’re careful because your ankle hurts and everyone talks about hesitancy and how it makes your character seem so sweet and innocent.” He chuckled a little. “Whereas in the orchestra, if you hit a wrong note, everyone hears it. More people play the violin that dance high-level ballet. Even people that don’t know anything about music can recognise when something sounds awful.”

 

“I’m so scared.” He murmured, wrapping his arms around himself.

 

“I know. I am too.” Freddie kissed his cheek. “Everyone is scared, darling. Thiago, even when he’s been here for thirty years, he still gets scared. But fear is- it’s a part of that exhilaration of it.”

 

Jim breathed out slowly. “I don’t usually have to look at the audience.”

 

“So don’t. Your part is my husband, you just have to look at me. Just keep your eyes on me, don’t look back, don’t look at any of them. It’ll just be like all those extra hours we spent in the studio. Oliver hasn’t stopped talking about it since he saw you, and he’s my biggest critic.” Freddie cupped his cheek and tilted up his head gently. “Look at me.”

 

Jim’s eyes met his shyly and Freddie smiled, kissing his lips gently. “You can do it.”

 

Freddie felt how his shoulders softened and he cooed encouragingly. “I love you.” Jim murmured.

 

“I love you too.” Freddie kissed him again. “Knock them dead.”

 

Jim pushed out a hard breath, trying to calm himself. “Fuck it.” He wrapped his arms around himself. “Oh, fuck it, let’s do it. I only have to do it one time.”

 

“Exactly!” Freddie said, sounding delighted. “So let’s fucking do it.”


	67. Encore Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna write a thing for you that's actual canon (kinda) and it's related to this kind of thing so I hope that's enough to cryptically excite you

Exhilaration.

 

That was the feeling, Jim thought, exhilaration. The applause of the crowd as they watched Freddie throw himself into his arms, leaping and forever trusting his lover to catch him. It was the way that he was able to throw him up in the air, the way he would land so gracefully, sat on one of Jim’s shoulders with both his hands on his waist; he would let himself fall backwards, pointing his toes and arching his back, his hair falling in a cascade down the back of his neck. He was beautiful, and Jim was so proud of how damn beautiful his husband was, but he was also proud of himself; he was proud of the muscles in his back, in his shoulders, never faltering though he was so tired. 

 

Freddie span in and they swayed together for a moment, an arm around his waist, loving, supporting. “I love you.” Freddie whispered, closing his eyes and letting himself be enveloped by the feeling of his arms.

 

“I love you too.” Jim whispered into his hair, squeezing him ever-so-gently. “Proud.”

 

* * *

 

They had always been ever-so-sensible in public, up on the Opera House stage: Freddie would gift him a rose, would give him his hand as he came onto the stage, but they were never too intimate in the eye of the public, of the staff, of friends they had both held dear for many years. 

 

What they did in the bathrooms backstage was their business, and their business only.

 

But this time, as the curtain was held back and Freddie slipped out onto the stage again to take his fourth bow of the night, he dragged his husband with him, and he stood up en pointe to share the sweetest kiss with him for everyone to see. His cheeks scorched scarlet as he wound his arms around Jim’s neck, laughing softly as he pecked his lips once again, and then led his husband into another bow; Jim’s arm stayed wound tightly around his waist as they bowed together.

 

A rose was thrown onstage, and Freddie picked it up and gave it to his lover. “That’s for you.” He said softly, smiling up at him.

 

Jim took the rose and carefully twined it in Freddie’s hair, tucking it behind his left ear. Jim blew one more kiss before they went backstage, Freddie stumbling a little as soon as they got behind the curtain. “My fucking feet.” He murmured.

 

Jim swept him up in his arms and Freddie laughed, wrapping his arms around Jim’s neck tightly. “Of course your arms aren’t even tired, you bastard.” He muttered.

 

“They’re fucking tired.” Jim kissed the top of his head. “But your feet must hurt more.”

 

“I’m genuinely convinced that I’m never going to be able to walk again.” He rested his head against Jim’s shoulder, tucking himself away when people started coming over to congratulate them. His cheeks were scarlet, soft and shy, and Jim could tell he hadn’t quite had time to come down yet: he needed the time to calm down, to take his makeup off, to let go of the adrenaline and emotion of performance.

 

“Go on ahead, darling, I’ll talk.” He put Freddie down gently; Freddie sent him a soft smile and made his way quickly back to their dressing room. 

 

“Darling!” Olga ran over to Jim. “Oh, you were wonderful, I told you that you could do it!”

 

“Thank you.” Jim smiled, his own cheeks reddening. “That was hell on the arms, though. I spent half my life lifting him, but that was totally different.”

 

“He looked like he was loving it, though. I haven’t seen him looking that happy on stage in a long time.” She smiled. “You were both absolutely beautiful.”

 

“I felt like we really had something. It was like a new experience for both of us, I think- I think I understand him better, now. Because he finds that so exhilarating, but it’s absolutely terrifying. And I’ve always seen him, I suppose, like everyone sees him, sweet and shy. But I feel like, to be able to do that, you have to be able to laugh in the face of fear, and I guess that makes sense why he’s such a strong person.” He rubbed his arm and smiled. “I don’t know, I had a lot of time to think, doing that.”

 

“You lost yourself in it, that’s what happens. You’ll find it addictive eventually.” She chuckled. 

 

“I’m going to go and get changed.” Jim rubbed his arm, suddenly feeling cold. “Thank you for your support, darling.”

 

“No worries, sweetheart. Well done for giving it a go.” She kissed his cheek. “Go and see your husband.”

 

Jim made his way to their dressing room, opening the door gently. Freddie was sat at his dressing table, still in his blue leotard and tights, but he was wrapped in his dressing gown and he’d kicked his shoes off halfway across the room - Jim could see that his feet had been bleeding again, and he’d wound a fresh bandage around his toe to keep it clean. He was sat peacefully, slowing brushing out his hair; he’d been letting it grow out, and it was down past his shoulders in waves.

 

“Look at you.” Jim came up behind him, winding a silken strand around his finger and letting the curl drop onto his husband’s shoulder. “I love your hair so much.”

 

Freddie glanced at him in the mirror and smiled. “You like it?” He asked shyly. 

 

“I was sceptical when you said you were growing it.” Jim pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “But I think I love it long the most.”

 

“Olga wanted it long for this performance. She thought that it best fit with the whole natural, loose, free-flowing kind of dance.” He dragged the brush back through his hair until it crackled. “She gave me this serum to stop it from going fluffy, it’s worked a treat.”

 

“It looks gorgeous.” Jim smiled and pressed another kiss to his shoulder. “You were wonderful tonight, baby.”

 

“I felt really beautiful.” He smiled in return, cheeks warm with happiness. “I don’t think I’ve ever danced like that before. I felt- I felt like I was flying, every time you threw me up I felt like I would never come back down again. I felt incredible.”

 

“You trusted me to catch you every time.” Jim said softly. “You never doubted my ability to look after you.”

 

“You’ve never dropped me.” Freddie quirked a playful eyebrow and threw him a wink. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too, baby. Thank you for being so special.” He murmured earnestly, kissing him once more.

 

* * *

 

“Daddy!” Talulah’s screech came from the stairs to the garden, where Freddie was out swimming; it was late in the evening, and they were spending more time splashing each other and kissing than they were swimming actual laps. They’d had the day off and had eventually acquiesced that they both ought to do some kind of training, something to keep the body moving. “Daddy!” She came clattering down the stairs, and ran straight into the outhouse. “Daddy, Daddy!”

 

Freddie broke away from Jim quickly, blushing hard; they’d been getting a little too intimate, a little handsy, nothing he ever wanted his daughter to see. “What is it, sweetheart?” He asked, putting on his kindest voice. 

 

“Look!” She reached for him, starting to tug on his hand. “Come and look!”

 

“At what?” He asked, hauling himself out of the pool and grabbing his towel.

 

“You and Pop!” She said excitedly. “The news lady, she said-”

 

“The news lady?” Freddie questioned, not even thinking for a moment that his daughter had been out of bed and watching television past her bedtime.

 

Jim jumped out and wrapped a towel around his shoulders, before picking up the little girl. “And what exactly were you doing, miss?”

 

She blushed. “The lady said you were pretty.” She told him, trying to derail him. 

 

“You’re naughty.” He said playfully, kissing the top of her nose. “Come and show us then, princess.”

 

She led them back upstairs and into the lounge, pointing excitedly to the television; Jim stood still in the doorway, entranced by the sight of them together, up on stage, for everyone to see. Freddie sat in front of the television and rubbed the towel through his hair, smiling to himself. They looked incredible; Freddie looked ethereal, Jim looked strong, handsome, beautiful. “This was when I danced with Pop the other night.” Freddie told her as she came and sat beside him. 

 

She rested her head on his arm and he smiled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to keep her warm. “Do you like dancing with Pop?” She asked quietly. 

 

“He’s my favourite person in the whole wide world to dance with.” Freddie kissed the top of her head. “I love you, princess.”

 

She looked up at him, the happiness, the softness behind his eyes, and she hugged his arm tight. “I love my Daddy.” She murmured. “And I- I-” She sprung up and ran at Jim’s legs, hugging him as tight as she could. “I love my dance Pop!”

 

Jim picked her up and cuddled her tight. “You’re our special little girl, darling, and we love you very much.” He smiled. “But you still have to go to bed.”

 

Freddie looked over and laughed at the way she pouted, knowing she forever had her Pop wound around her little finger. “Listen to your father, princess.”

 

“You’re my father too!” She jumped down from Jim’s arms and ran over to Freddie, giggling as she hid behind him. “You didn’t say!”

 

Freddie raised an eyebrow at Jim and then looked over his shoulder at his little girl. “It’s time for bed, darling.”

 

She pouted and crossed her arms. “I don’t want to.”

 

Jim had a knack for telling when she was misbehaving, and when something was genuinely worrying or upsetting her and she was trying to cover it up. He sat beside Freddie and held an arm out for her, smiling when she ran over to him and buried her face in his chest. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” He asked, softening his voice a little. 

 

She put her thumb in her mouth and shook her head, not wanting to look him in the eye. “Hey, darling.” Freddie smoothed his hand over her hair. “What’s wrong?”

 

She tilted her head to look at him for a second, suddenly quiet. “Don’t go.” She murmured.

 

“Go?” Freddie asked her. “Go where?”

 

“Anywhere.” She whispered.

 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Jim cuddled her close. “You’re still worried about your Daddy?”

 

She nodded shyly, feeling silly. “You don’t need to worry about me, darling. I’m not going anywhere.” Freddie said soothingly. “You’re going to wake up in the morning, and you can run straight into our room, and I’ll be with Pop like I always am. I’ll be fast asleep against him, and you can come and snuggle up with us.”

 

She started to smile and nodded, her cheeks pinkening with Freddie’s characteristic blush - he loved that she’d picked that up from him subconsciously, looking so pretty and so shy every time she blushed. “And if you wake up in the middle of the night.” Jim added. “Come and cuddle with me and Daddy. We’ll always be here.”

 

She let out a yawn and Freddie could see her starting to soften. “Let’s go to bed, darling.” He said to both husband and daughter, yawning himself. “I’m tired.”

 

“Me too.” Talulah whispered, and Jim kissed the top of her head with a smile.

 

He carefully stood up, cradling her close, and spoke softly to her. “Goodnight, my darling girl. I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have y'all seen that meme that's like a person struggling over a 300 word essay and simultaneously writing a million words on ao3 because that's me (also the 'I can't stretch a report on 16th century economics with a gratuitous handjob' is such a mood)


	68. Silks and Cottons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interruption to the domestic routine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so much happier and that definitely reflects in this I love writing these soft boys so much

Freddie was still mussed, half-dozing, his t-shirt ridden up around his stomach as he luxuriated back on their silk sheets; he stretched out, humming happily, aching and sated, and then curled up around his pillow again.

 

“Come here-” Jim’s voice was gravely, low, just how Freddie liked it - he hadn’t had his throat used quite so roughly in a long while - as he reached for his husband. 

 

Freddie opened an eye playfully, as if he was genuinely considering his options, and then squealed as he saw Jim’s hands. “Absolutely not!” He said defensively, holding the pillow up between them.

 

Jim looked a little wounded; they always cuddled after sex, a routine they’d had ever since they’d first started sleeping together. Freddie liked feeling protected, like he could drift away in his own bubble, and Jim liked to know he was there, safe, grounding. “Why not?” He asked, voice a whine.

 

“If you think that much lube is going anywhere near my hair, darling, you are dramatically mistaken.” Freddie started to grin, scowling at Jim’s sticky hand. “It takes shampoo you could only dream of to make the curls this bouncy.”

 

“Oh my God.” Jim groaned, rolling over and feeling blindly in the bedside cabinet for a handkerchief, tissues, a cloth, anything, and came back eventually with a pack of baby wipes that he haphazardly cleaned his hand with.

 

“I had a shower earlier, there’s no way I’m showering again.” Freddie said lazily, letting himself be tugged into his husband’s arms with a happy grin. 

 

“Then you shouldn’t have let me come on your face.” Jim muttered into the top of his hair. “It’s in your hair.”

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Freddie sighed, though he sounded more playful than angry. “It was hot, though.”

 

“The strangest things keep you happy.” Jim leaned down and kissed him softly, and he could feel Freddie’s smile pressing back against him. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

“I used serum and everything. Water’s going to destroy it.” He groaned into Jim’s neck. “It’s going to go all flat and horrible again, I worked so hard to make it look pretty, and now-”

 

Jim knew exactly why he was whining, and couldn’t keep the wry grin from his face. “Why don’t I do your hair for you, princess?” He asked, voice high and teasing.

 

“Oh, darling, that sounds wonderful!” Freddie matched his tone perfectly, though he did look genuinely delighted. “You mean I get a blowjob, a good dicking, and then I get my hair done professionally?”

 

“You’d have people to breathe for you if you could.” Jim yawned and snuggled down next to him, pressing lazy kisses to the back of his neck. “Fold your clothes, feed the children…”

 

“I take my job as a father very seriously.” Freddie yawned in return. “Myself, on the other hand, I value sleep more than housework.”

 

“You’ve got the most wonderfully clean, polite, well-fed and loved children, but you’re happy to fall asleep with come in your hair and without dinner.” Jim carefully scooped him up in his arms and started carrying him back towards the bathroom. “Speaking of which.”

 

Freddie smiled bashfully. “I don’t have to look after myself.”

 

“Well, technically, you do, and you do a good job of looking after all of us. But times like now you need someone to look after you, and that’s my job.” Jim hauled him up and kissed his cheek softly. “Food or shower first?”

 

“Food. I’m starving.” Freddie rested his head against Jim’s collarbone and smiled. “But I don’t want to wait for you to cook something.”

 

“Luckily for you, I made so much pasta last night that I’ve still got a load in the fridge.” Jim found that he couldn’t wipe the smile from his face as he carried Freddie downstairs; he felt like their love was better, stronger than it had ever been. They’d lost something when Freddie had been so ill, something they’d rekindled in intimacy, closeness, time spent between the sheets not only sleeping together but sleeping on one another, with one another. A natural dependency had rekindled between them, Freddie’s dependency on Jim to look after him, love him, care for him; Jim’s dependency on Freddie waking next to him, helping him with the children, being there to check on his emotions and check he wasn’t risking burying his feelings in the sand of the children, his responsibilities. 

 

They’d rekindled the intimacy in sex, the closeness, the emotional dependency on one another, but something else had blossomed too. Maybe it had been in the dance, in discovering each other in different ways; maybe it had been Freddie’s delight in teaching him everything he’d come to learn over the years, the best things to eat before performing, the best stretches to do afterwards, the way to press his balance through the base of his right foot when he reached his left behind, toe to the ground, and swept forward in a bow. Maybe Jim just loved to know everything about Freddie, and he loved that feeling of familiarity that he got every time he picked him up, every time Freddie curled so perfectly against him, every time they were able to be so domestic, so fucking domestic, in a way that always warmed his heart.

 

“I knew there was a reason I married you.” Freddie lounged in his arms, enjoying the way Jim’s eyes raked over the muscles in his stomach. “You’re so organised.”

 

“It was an accident, but I’ll take the praise.” He sat Freddie on the island counter and opened up the fridge, taking out the pasta and placing it in the microwave. “Hey?”

 

“Hmm?” Freddie looked up from where he was stealing grapes from the fruit bowl, innocently popping one in his mouth.

 

“I love you.” Jim came over and kissed the top of his head, before Freddie leaned up to kiss him properly. “You taste like grape juice.”

 

“I love you too.” Freddie wound his arms around his waist and hugged him softly. “Grape juice, that’s a good idea. Have we got any?”

 

“I don’t think we bought any this time around.” Jim opened the fridge with one arm, Freddie still firmly tucked around his waist. “No. Apple, orange, pineapple, cranberry, blueberry-”

 

“Blueberry.” Freddie smiled up at him. “Please?”

 

“You went crazy with all these juices.” Jim grabbed a glass and poured it for him; he still enjoyed looking after Freddie after sex, making sure he was well-fed, that he wasn’t thirsty, made him feel like he was doing a good job of caring for him. Freddie crossed his legs and took the cup, drinking it down rapidly; Jim chuckled. “That nice, baby?”

 

Freddie nodded and smiled, his cheeks pinkening. “You just gave me the child voice.”

 

“I’m looking after you, I can’t help it.” Jim chuckled. He dished up their dinner and sat down on one of the barstools, while Freddie continued to sit happily on the counter. “Doesn’t it hurt to sit like that?” He questioned.

 

Freddie rocked side to side and shrugged. “I mean, I’m a little tender.” He smiled bashfully. “When you’ve been sleeping with someone for seven years, I think you get used to it. It’s like being sore after a day at ballet and going back the next day and just powering through it. Besides, you were gentle.”

 

It was Jim’s turn to blush. “I like being gentle with you.”

 

“I appreciate it. I think I’d struggle to dance if you were rough with me all the time, and I think being rough all the time- I feel like it gets you down after a while. I know some people want to be treated roughly, but I don’t get that.” He took a mouthful of pasta. “I guess it’s all about satisfying people’s needs, isn’t it? And I like sex to make me feel loved.”

 

“I don’t think I could lay a hand on you like that. I think I’d just feel horribly guilty.” Jim rested a hand on the inside of his thigh, making Freddie smile. “I don’t think I could hurt you even if you wanted me to.”

 

“Which, by the way, I never would.” Freddie said through a mouthful. “Making love and pasta is more my style.”

 

Jim snorted, nearly losing his mouthful from trying not to laugh. “I don’t think you’ve ever said something more domestic in your whole life.”

 

“I am domestic!” Freddie laughed. “I paid this house outright so we could have a family home, because I wanted to be domestic. So if I want to make love in my bed, eat pasta on my kitchen counter, paint with the children in my playroom and put them to bed in a bedroom I renovated, I will.”

 

“I wouldn’t have you any other way.” Jim leaned up to kiss him indulgently, and the taste of tomato sauce and blueberry juice only made his smile widen.

 

* * *

 

He thought, momentarily, that Freddie should’ve looked out of place in a children’s playground; with the physique he had, the confidence he had, he should’ve stuck out amongst Chelsea mothers dressed in white. He hadn’t anticipated Freddie walking straight over to a group of mothers - mothers Jim had been terrified of every time he’d come to pick the children up himself - and greeting them all with a bright hello.

 

“Freddie!” The scariest one - her hair scraped back in the sleekest ponytail, white coat, white boots, white leather gloves - squealed loudly, throwing her arms around him; Jim watched as she surreptitiously pulled her skirt up a little, and he could barely contain his snort. “Darling, how are you? I haven’t seen you in months!”

 

“Oh, awfully well.” He winked, playing up the attention. “You know how it is, darling, I’ve been halfway around the world. We went to Japan in the January break.” He lied smoothly; Jim could only stand back and watch how well he handled them.

 

“Japan? Isn’t Japan awfully expensive?” She asked.

 

“Expenses.” He winked, and Jim swore she nearly fainted.

 

“Listen, darling, little Lucy has just been so adamant that your Lu must come over again some time, they’re simply the best of friends now.” She rested a hand on his arm, fingers lightly resting over his bicep, and Jim swore he saw Freddie flex a little. “I was going to bring it up with your- who is he, darling, a friend? Or have you finally employed somebody?”

 

Freddie was momentarily taken aback, not understanding her, and then his eyes widened. “Oh, darling, you mean Jim!” He looked around, suddenly surprised that his husband wasn’t beside him. “Baby, come here!”

 

Jim smiled smugly at her bereft expression and walked over to Freddie, winding an arm around his waist. “Why don’t you introduce me?” He asked smoothly, looking over each of the women.

 

“This is Jim, my husband.” Freddie looked up at him and smiled indulgently. “Jim, this is Cindy, Louisa, Gilly, and Cassandra. Gilly’s Lucy is Talulah’s best friend.”

 

Jim knew for a fact it wasn’t true; Talulah’s best friend was a boy called Hayden who painted her pictures every Tuesday in golden time. She complained about Lucy hanging around her and Oliver, about her being boring, never wanting to play proper games; Jim had soothed her with a biscuit and promised she didn’t have to play with anybody she didn’t like. “Is she?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow. “I thought it was Hayden.”

 

“Well-” Freddie blushed and smiled. 

 

“Is this Reuben?” Louisa asked, looking at the little boy in Jim’s arms. “Oh, isn’t he beautiful!”

 

“It is.” Freddie ruffled Reuben’s hair and smiled wider. “Usually we pick him up after these two, but we had a little extra time on our hands today.”

 

“What’s your job, darling? You must do something special if you’ve got a ballet dancer as a husband.” Cindy asked Jim excitedly. 

 

“I’m also a dancer.” He announced; it was the first time he’d said it in front of strangers, and it filled him with pride. “As well as a cellist, violinist, pianist, conductor, and senior music master at the Royal Opera House.”

 

Freddie was filled with pride as he listened to how self-assured he sounded; he was glowing with confidence, radiant, incandescent- he knew himself, who he was, and Freddie loved to listen to it. 

 

“Daddy!” Talulah shouted, just as Oliver’s “Pop!” echoed through the air.

 

“Oh, he we are!” Jim lifted up Oliver, pressing a kiss to the top of his head and then sitting him on his hip. “He’s the man himself.”

 

“And the prettiest little ballerina in the whole world.” Freddie pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Talulah’s head as he crouched to hug her.

 

“Is it ballet tonight, Daddy?” She asked, eyes wide and hopeful.

 

“Sure is, sweetness. We need to go home and get your hair sorted out.” Freddie chuckled. “Look at the ringlets you’ve got going on today!”

 

“Like yours.” She giggled and hugged him again. “Curlies!”

 

“Exactly.” Freddie lifted her up and turned to the others. “We’ve got to dash, I’m afraid. Little ones have ballet at five.”

 

“Of course they do.” The scariest one - Gilly, he’d learned - gave Freddie a tight smile. “I assume we’ll see you tomorrow?”

 

“As always!” He said happily and turned to Jim, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek. “Let’s go!”

 

Jim put down Oliver and wound his free arm around Freddie’s waist as they walked away. “She wants to fuck you.” Jim whispered in his ear. 

 

“Which one?” Freddie asked, a smug smile on his face. 

 

“You bitch!” Jim burst out laughing and elbowed him. “You know it!”

 

“Maybe I do.” Freddie shrugged, though he looked strangely proud. 

 

“You fox.” He couldn’t stop laughing. “You get a kick out of it?”

 

“Something like that. It passes the playground time nice and quickly.” Freddie chuckled. “But you know I only have eyes for you, darling.” He said sweetly. 

 

“It’d be hard to pretend I never do the same.” He shrugged. “You know what I’m like.”

 

“I do, baby.” Freddie pecked his cheek. “I do.”

 

* * *

 

“Remind me how old our daughter is.” Freddie sat on the arm of Jim’s chair and he looked up quickly from his book. 

 

“Four.” He replied immediately; he assumed it was a hangover from his memory loss, a memory that had slipped. “Why, darling?”

 

“She just came over to me and asked me to help her with her developpé a lá second.” Freddie laughed. “I didn’t even know a four-year-old could learn French that quickly.”

 

“She’s a little miracle. She’s always been older than her age.” He shrugged. “Besides, she’ll be five in a couple of months.”

 

“She’s taking to the ballet like a duck to water. I feel like I’m watching myself again.” Freddie glanced up at the ceiling, and Jim sprung up from his chair when he realised his eyes were welling with tears.

 

“Oh, baby!” Jim wrapped his arms around him tightly. “What’s making you upset?”

 

“I’m not upset.” He laughed wetly and wiped his thumbs under his eyes. “No, it’s just- I’m watching them, and they’re so little, and I’ll never get these moments with them again. I feel like I have to treasure every single second with them, because maybe she’ll never need help with that again.”

 

Jim chuckled lightly and squeezed him softly. “No, but the future’s going to be better, because you’ll watch them grow up and get more and more technical. You still need Olga’s help, don’t you? You still have to have her telling you to turn out more, or twist further, or to do less work. They’ll always need you in the same way.”

 

Freddie smiled at the idea and hugged his knees. “I like that idea.” He said softly. “I could coach them. I could teach Olly Des Grieux and Talulah the Sugar Plum Fairy, and I’ll get complimentary to all of their shows even when I’m old and crippled and I can’t stay awake through the whole performance.”

 

“You’ll get your own box in the auditorium. The Mercury Suite.” Jim chuckled. “Besides, you’ve got an awful lot of years left in you yet. You’re twenty-six, you’re hardly falling apart at the seams. I’d say that you’re in your prime.”

 

“Thanks.” Freddie laughed softly, but the flush on his cheeks was clearly pleased. 

 

“Daddy!” Talulah ran over crossly, and Jim couldn’t help his laugh at her angry face. “Daddy, help, please!”

 

“You know what you need to do, princess. You just need to make sure you kick out instead of up.” Freddie’s voice was soothing and Jim saw the way she instinctively softened. “Why don’t you show your Pop? He can help you.”

 

She showed Jim and he smiled. “Tilt your hips forward, petal, make sure you’re nice and straight.”

 

She started to giggle shyly. “I have two dance daddies.” She announced, trying it out once again.

 

* * *

 

Jim could always tell he was tired when he let his hair hang down in his eyes like that; his eyes barely stayed open long enough to register the mild irritation. He was curled up in his snuggle chair, baby in his lap, and both of them were bound up in blankets: Reuben was fast asleep against his chest, having only calmed from his nightmare when he’d been laid against Freddie’s bare chest to snuggle. Freddie was in a cuddling mood, clutching onto his baby like a teddy bear, occasionally pressing sleepy kisses to his head when he started to rouse. 

 

“Freddie?” Jim whispered, kneeling by the side of the chair and cupping his cheek, ever-so-gently running his thumb back and forth over Freddie’s cheek. “Freddie, baby, wake up.”

 

Freddie yawned and buried his face in Reuben’s curls, refusing to wake up; he leaned against the back of the chair and held him as close as he could, wanting to stay asleep.

 

“Freddie.” Jim whined. “I didn’t make you dhansak for you to sleep through dinner.”

 

One eye opened immediately. “You made me dhansak?”

 

“I’m perfecting my recipe. I figured you wouldn’t be complaining.” Jim grinned and squeezed his arm. “Shall I bring it to you?”

 

“No, no, I’ll come.” Freddie lifted the baby and tucked him in on the sofa, taking his husband’s hand gently. “You know, I think I love holding hands with you almost as much as I love sleeping on you and cuddling with you.”

 

Jim locked their fingers together and kissed his cheek. “The mention of dhansak perked you up endlessly.”

 

“Sue me, I’m hungry and it’s my favourite.” Freddie sat on one of the barstools and gratefully took his bowl and fork. “It was the first thing I ever cooked for you.”

 

“It was delicious. That’s when I knew you were husband material.” Jim joked. “And it was so spicy it nearly tore my mouth in two.”

 

“Only because you’re a pussy.” Freddie grinned and scooped up Peaches beside him, sitting him on the counter and petting his fur. 

 

“You’ve made a spice-lover out of me, though.” Jim chuckled and wound an arm around his waist as they ate together. 

 

“An honorary Indian. I think my mother loves feeding you more than me, because she’s so proud you can handle her spice.” He grinned.

 

“And her spice isn’t even as bad as yours is.” Jim kissed his cheek playfully. “I love your family.”

 

“We should go and visit them soon.” Freddie smiled at the idea. “I haven’t really seen her since before I got sick.”

 

“How about we go tomorrow? We’ll take the kids, so they can see the grandkids. I know how much your dad loves little Olly.” Jim suggested.

 

Freddie nodded. “I’d like that.” He agreed. “Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

_ “Have you still got the crib?” She asked breathlessly, the bundle starting to cry again in her arms. _

 

_ “Reuben’s using it.” He replied, almost stunned into silence. _

 

_ “Moses basket?” She asked desperately. _

 

_ “I can get it down from the loft and put it in the spare room.” He said, wide-eyed, and took the blankets from her. “Do you really-” _

 

_ “Please.” She squeezed his arm lightly. “Please, Jim, please-” _

**Author's Note:**

> Make sure to leave a comment if you're enjoying this (because I always enjoy hearing what you've got to say!) and drop me kudos if this is your first time reading this fic :)


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